


Sherlock: Addicted

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Detoxing, Drug Addiction, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Overdosing, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his younger years Greg Lestrade was an addict. Twenty years on and he’s found high in his flat. But the story behind the drugs is more intricate than even Sherlock Holmes could imagine. Mystrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cell

**Author's Note:**

> Ownership: Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, these versions are owned by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I just get to play.

Greg Lestrade hit the bunk hard but barely felt it. He was too high to feel much other than anger at Sherlock Holmes.

‘Hey, what the fuck is going on?’ Lestrade demanded, sitting up and staring at the door. Normally he’d be a match for Sherlock Holmes but in his current state he was little stronger than a ten-year-old girl.

Sherlock stood in the doorway, face a mask of indifference. ‘You’re high, Lestrade.’

‘So?’ Lestrade grumbled.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. ‘So? You’re a forty-seven year-old police officer with Scotland Yard. Society tends to frown upon drug addicted coppers.’

‘I’m not a drug addict!’ Lestrade hissed. He hadn’t considered himself an addict in years.

With a snort, Sherlock turned to leave the cell. ‘Stay here until you sober up.’

‘Why?’ Lestrade demanded.

A flicker of emotion passed across Sherlock’s face but it was gone before Lestrade could see it.

‘Because,’ the genius whispered, ‘you did it for me.’

 

\--

 

_Greg was nineteen when he first tried cocaine. His girlfriend was snorting lines in the men’s bathroom and Greg’s eyes went wide._

_‘Sarah, what are you doing?’_

_Sarah grinned and looked up at him. ‘Havin’ some blow, wanna try?’_

_‘No,’ he shook his head._

_‘Come on,’ she slurred, wobbling on her feet. She held out the case. ‘Snort away, I got plenty.’_

_‘Sarah, I can’t.’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘I wanna be a cop.’_

_Sarah snorted. ‘Exactly; best to try everything now.’_

_Greg bit his lip. He’d always wondered about drugs but had never had the balls to try any. He’d always been a strict person; a bit uptight, he’d scolded his mates when they broke the law. But he didn’t want to be one of those guys who went through life without doing anything._

_‘N-no,’ he mumbled, feeling his resolve crack. He’d always been a sucker for a cute girl._

_‘Try a little, Greggie-boy,’ Sarah smiled. ‘It won’t kill ya.’_

_Greg knew cocaine_ could _kill you if it was cut with the wrong stuff. But Sarah was looking so very gorgeous and Greg hadn’t had sex since his last girlfriend dumped him. He bit his lip as Sarah pulled at her shirt._

_‘Coke makes you hot,’ she whispered, slinking up to Greg. ‘Might make us take our clothes off.’_

_She rubbed herself up against Greg and he shivered, his cock going hard._

_‘Ever had sex in public, Greg?’ Sarah asked. ‘It’s_ so _hot.’_

_Greg grabbed the straw she offered and gulped._

_‘Come on, don’t be a girl; I don’t fuck girls.’_

_Greg’s cock decided for him. He stuck the straw into his nose and bent down to snort a little powder. It tickled his nose and he sneezed, nearly sending the powder all over the place. Sarah swore at him as Greg sniffed, rubbing his nose and blinking._

_The high hit suddenly and he moaned, dropping the straw. He watched Sarah bend over and grabbed her hips as the drug assaulted his mind, everything suddenly bright and cheery and oh so fucking good._

_‘Mm, I like that,’ Sarah whispered, snapping the case shut and stuffing it into her purse. Greg pushed his erection against Sarah’s arse and she moaned. ‘Fuck me, Greg.’_

_‘I don’t have a condom.’_

_‘Don’t be a girl, just fuck me!’ Sarah demanded._

_-oOo-_

 

_Greg’s head was aching when he woke and his stomach rolled as he stumbled from bed. Sarah had left a note saying he was a good screw but she was heading back to Scotland to try getting back together with her ex._

_Greg couldn’t bring himself to care as he wobbled into the bathroom and heaved over the toilet. Beer and pizza splattered against the porcelain and Greg ran a shaky hand through his sweat-soaked hair._

_Never again, he told himself. He’d never do coke again._


	2. Acts

Lestrade groaned as he threw up again, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed it down and licked his lips, wishing he had a cold glass of water. There was a tap and sink a few inches in front of him but the DI felt too weak to move.

It was so hot in the cramped cell and Lestrade loosened a few more buttons before rolling up his sleeves. He heard voices outside and shouted, ‘Let me out!’

‘ _I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir_.’

Lestrade paused, trying to put a face to a name... Donovan, that was it; Sally Donovan. God, how could he forget her? Detoxing was really playing havoc with his mind.

‘Let me out, Donovan!’

‘ _No_ ,’ she replied.

‘I’m ordering you, Sally, let me the fuck out!’

There was a pause before, ‘ _I can’t, Greg, I’m sorry._ ’

‘Fucking hell,’ Lestrade grumbled. ‘You’ll be sorry when I get out.’ He groaned again and wiped at his sweaty face, fingers twitching. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off his churning gut. He’d do anything for a smoke.

A packet of cigarettes was pushed through the slot in the door and Lestrade pounced on them. He took one with shaking hands and managed to light it after a minute, sighing loudly when he breathed out a lungful of smoke.

‘ _You’re welcome_ ,’ came the baritone voice of Sherlock Holmes.

Lestrade let his head fall back against the door with a _thump._ ‘Sherlock, lemme out.’

‘ _No._ ’

‘Why?’ Lestrade demanded.

‘ _Gregory, you are high. I don’t know how long you’ve had a drug problem or how I missed it but you’re staying in there until you are sober. I’ll wait all night if I have to._ ’

Lestrade puffed on his smoke as Dr Watson interjected. ‘ _Me too, Greg._ ’

‘I don’t need you to stay,’ Lestrade mumbled.

‘ _We are anyway_ ,’ John said.

‘Fuck off,’ Lestrade grunted.

‘ _Sherlock, maybe we should let him out,_ ’ John mumbled.

‘ _We can’t._ ’

‘ _Why not?_ ’

‘ _Gregory is in the same position I was six years ago, John,_ ’ Sherlock answered. ‘ _He tried to get me clean but nothing worked so he locked me in a cell for two days. I came out cleaner and healthier than I had been in a while. Sometimes cold turkey is the best way._ ’

John sighed. ‘ _Did you know he was a drug addict?_ ’

‘I’m not a drug addict!’ Lestrade shouted.

They ignored him.

‘ _No, I don’t think he’s snorted anything in years; he’s detoxing rather quickly, that points to a sudden intake. I would have noticed if he was a regular user._ ’

‘ _Sally?_ ’ John asked.

‘ _I’ve never seen anything_ ,’ the sergeant said, ‘ _and he’s passed all his random piss tests._ ’

‘ _So probably an addiction in his early years_ ,’ Sherlock said, ‘ _possibly before he was a DI._ ’

Lestrade closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it; he didn’t want to be reminded of what a fuck whit he was. The drugs had never caused anything but hurt.

 

\--

 

_A year after his first taste Greg was hooked. It had started slow; a few snorts at some parties turned into a couple of lines. Licking coke off a girl’s breasts became his regular party trick. Suddenly it had grown to be a problem and Greg was buying urine from criminals in an attempt to pass his regular piss tests at the academy. He knew he’d hit rock bottom when he was willing to trade sex for cocaine._

_‘A blow job?’ Greg asked, sure he hadn’t heard the man right. The music was loud and people were grinding against the teenager as he eyed the man standing before him._

_‘Yeah, a blow job and I give ya the whole bag,’ the thirty-something year-old grinned._

_He wasn’t particularly bad looking for a man (not that Greg really paid attention to men) but was oily and sleazy, his eyes raking up and down the young officer-in-training._

_Greg was dirt poor and worked two jobs just to pay his way through his training. His cocaine habit hadn’t helped and he found himself spending money on drugs and booze rather than on food and clothing. His electricity had been cut off the week before and Greg couldn’t bring himself to care._

_‘I’m not gay,’ he finally managed, running a hand through his curly brown hair._

_‘Who said anythin’ ’bout bein’ queer?’ the man asked. ‘One blow job and ya get the bag.’_

_‘And it’s good stuff?’ Greg asked, feeling sick as he realised he was more than willing to suck off a stranger for cocaine._

_‘The very best,’ the man said._

_Greg nodded. ‘Yeah, okay.’_

_The man grinned and grabbed Greg’s hand, hauling the teenager to the back door of the club. They pushed out into the dark alleyway to find couples in various states of sexual intercourse. The man pulled Greg into a dark corner behind a dumpster and shoved the coke into his pocket._

_‘I don’t want ya wimpin’ out ’alfway through,’ the man said, pulling at his belt. ‘I come down ya throat or ya don’t get it.’_

_Greg nodded, swallowing his revulsion as the man dropped his trousers._ Think about the coke _, he told himself._ You can get high and forget this ever happened.

_Greg wondered if it’d be easier to just rob the man but figured that was a bad idea. Trading sexual favours for drugs was already enough to land him behind bars and strip away any hope of becoming a cop._

_Greg swallowed again as the man dropped his underwear, revealing a small cock that was already erect and leaking pre-come. He tried not to shudder as the man began stroking himself, moaning and looking at Greg._

_‘Come on, kid, ya want the coke or not?’_

_Greg dropped to his knees and shuffled forward, eyes locked onto the man’s erection. He didn’t want to do this, could he do this?_

Drugs, _he told himself._ Think about the drugs. __

_He took a deep breath and reached up to grab the man. His shaft was hot and hard, sliding through the teenager’s fingers as he stroked quickly._

_‘Easy, kid,’ the man moaned, ‘we got all night.’_

_Greg didn’t want to fucking suck off some weirdo all night. He wanted this over and done with so he could knock back a few drinks and get high in his flat. After another deep breath he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the man’s cock._

_It... it wasn’t that bad. The man’s come was sticky and salty and Greg wanted to spit but his mouth was full. He sucked back and the guy groaned, fisting a hand in Greg’s hair tightly._

_Greg pulled back to swirl his tongue along the head, shuddering when he tasted more come. He wanted this to be over and moved forward again, teeth scraping along the man’s cock._

_Apparently he was doing something right because the man grabbed his hair with both hands and thrust forward. Greg choked as the tip of the man’s cock slid down the back of his throat and tried to pull away. But the older man wasn’t letting him go and he immediately pulled Greg back in, tearing at the teenager’s hair._

_Greg’s eyes watered and he tried to suck in a breath as the man thrust in and out of his mouth. It took a few pushes for him to realise he could suck in a quick breath when the man pulled out._

_His vision came back into focus and Greg could see again. The man was grunting and swearing, fucking Greg’s mouth harder and harder. Greg closed his eyes and hollowed his cheeks, remembering what girls had done to his own cock. He found his crotch twitching and nearly pulled away again. No, he wasn’t getting off on this; he wasn’t attracted to guys._

_The man was moaning louder as Greg reached up to grab his hips, trying to control the guy’s thrusts. It did nothing but spur him on and Greg grunted as the man fucked his mouth harder and harder and–_

_The man tugged on Greg’s hair, nearly ripping it from his head, as he came. Semen shot down Greg’s throat and he choked, squeezing his eyes tightly. He wanted to throw up and pull away but remembered the guy saying he had to take it._

_So Greg steadied his hands and drank everything, wincing as it left a salty aftertaste in his mouth._

_‘L-lick me clean,’ the man stuttered._

_Greg complied, tongue lapping up the come that had dripped down the man’s cock. He licked his own lips clean when the man pulled out and stood quickly._

_‘You got a good mouth, kid,’ the man said and pulled up his underwear and pants, buckling as he looked at Greg. ‘I’m here every Friday if you wanna do that again.’_

_Greg found the whole experience horrifying but realised he’d do it all again if he could get his hands on some coke._

_‘Th-thanks,’ he mumbled._

_The guy pushed the baggie into Greg’s hands and brushed back his hair, fixed his clothes. ‘Enjoy,’ he grinned and sauntered off back to the club._

_Greg followed a few minutes later, finding that he didn’t have enough money for another drink. He needed to get the taste of come and cock from his mouth and scanned the bar, wondering if there was an older woman he could flirt into buying him a drink._

_He noticed a youngish guy sitting at the edge of the wooden bar, sipping from a tall glass of beer. He caught Greg’s eye and winked._

_Greg swallowed, his mouth feel raw and abused, and walked over._

_‘Hey there,’ he said, putting on his most charming smile. ‘Buy a guy a drink?’_


	3. First Meetings

Lestrade lit another cigarette and blew smoke above his head. He was still sitting against the door and could hear soft whispering, as though Sherlock, John and Sally were worried Lestrade would hear what they were saying.

Suddenly there was a face at the hole in the door and Lestrade turned to see Sherlock.

‘What?’

‘How’d you get hooked on drugs?’

Lestrade groaned. ‘I don’t wanna talk about it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why do you think?’ Lestrade demanded.

‘You know how I got started.’

‘Mm,’ Lestrade mumbled, ‘some guy or something.’

‘His name was Victor,’ Sherlock said softly, ‘he introduced me to drugs and alcohol.’

‘Well bravo Victor.’

Sherlock scowled. ‘You’re not being very cheery tonight, Gregory.’

‘Why the hell should I be?’ Lestrade asked. ‘You got your goddamn little boy toy to man-handle me into a cab. You cuffed me, with my own handcuffs, and threw me in a cell.’

‘Hey, I’m not his boy toy,’ John grumbled, his eyes suddenly joining Sherlock’s. ‘I’m his boyfriend.’

‘Oh yeah? Have you told your parents?’

‘Have you told _your_ parents you like men?’ Sherlock asked.

Lestrade felt colour tinge his cheeks and wiped at his eyes. His hands were still shaking and he didn’t like it... he didn’t like that Sherlock could see so much either. They’d gone six years without Sherlock realising Lestrade had a drug problem. He really, really didn’t want to discuss it now.

‘I don’t like men,’ he grumbled. In fact, he’d only ever liked _one_ man. He’d been with plenty, mostly oral sex in toilet cubicles and alleyways. But he’d only ever fucked, and been fucked, by one man.

Lestrade felt anger claw at his heart and he blinked back the tears. No, he couldn’t think about him, not now. All day the man’s face had drifted through the DI’s head. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

‘Lestrade?’ Sherlock asked, voice soft and... _caring_.

Lestrade closed his eyes as memories of that one very important man ripped through his mind.

 

\--

 

_Greg was a regular at the bar; known for his charming smile, curly hair and talented mouth, he could get anything he wanted just by flirting and giving men what they wanted. It was always men; women didn’t want a quick rendezvous in an alley. Greg didn’t mind now. He was twenty-three, he’d been doing it for four years. He’d sunk so low he sometimes got himself off while pleasuring older men with his lips._

_It was getting harder and harder to hide his drug habit from Scotland Yard but Greg was smart, he was a good cop. People bought that his runny noses were brought on by hay-fever or the air conditioning. They accepted that he was just skinny and lean. They bought the lie that he was working two jobs and barely slept; it explained the bags under his eyes and the constant yawning._

_It was all down to the coke and his late-night drinking and fucking. Greg wasted his weekends getting high and fucking whatever girl would have him. He’d had three pregnancy scares but still forget to slip condoms into his wallet._

_Greg knew he was slipping from reality; knew he’d end up overdosing in some fucking alley and die a nobody. But he really, really couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t get out of the rut he’d created. Greg had fallen so far since that girl who introduced him to coke._

_Greg sat in one of the rounded booths at the back of the club. There were women dancing on the tables, curling themselves around poles and generally flashing their bits at anyone looking. Greg sipped his drink and scanned the bar, wondering if there was a guy he could flirt with to get another drink._

_His eyes settled on a young man at the edge of the bar. From what Greg could see he was barley in his twenties, he’d be lucky to pass for an adult really. He was tall, all long legs and lean body, with dark brown hair that flashed a rust colour when the right light hit him. He was nursing a glass of bourbon, pink lips sitting against the glass elegantly with each mouthful._

_Greg couldn’t help but admire the man’s body as his eyes raked over him. He was wearing a tailored three-piece suit, the silk shirt and expensive tie both a dark blue. He kept swiping at his lips and Greg’s eyes were drawn to them, his heart thudding every time the man did it._

_Suddenly he stood and pulled off his coat, revealing that the waistcoat hugged his frame quite nicely. Greg felt his cock twitch as the man sat back down, fabric pulling tightly against his back._

_Greg really couldn’t believe it... he was actually attracted to the man. He tilted his head as he continued to eye him, four more drinks passing between his lips. In that time the man yawned, checked his chunky phone, and ordered another two drinks._

_Greg was used to checking men out now. Mostly it was in order to evaluate whether or not they’d buy him alcohol or drugs if he gave them a blow job. It was rare that Greg got turned on when he had another guy’s cock in his mouth but sometimes the men wanted him to touch himself; sometimes they wanted that only._

_Greg would never deny that he’d grown to somewhat enjoy the feeling of sucking another man off but he’d never wanted sex; he wouldn’t stoop_ that _low. But watching the young man run a hand across his sweaty forehead was enough to make Greg stand. He wondered if he could talk the guy into a hand job, maybe a quick suck, or even... God, Greg actually wanted to fuck him._

_Wondering if he’d gone completely crazy, Greg grabbed his drink and crossed the club, expertly avoiding the women and men writhing against each other on the dance floor. He saw that the man was even more gorgeous up close and swallowed as he entered his personal space._

_Someone bumped into Greg and he fell forward. Warm hands grabbed his arms as ice spilled from Greg’s drink, sliding across the man’s thighs and hitting the floor._

_‘Excuse me, sir, could you not spill your drink over me?’ The man’s voice was so posh and uptight, he sounded like a politician. It was velvety smooth and sent shivers down Greg’s spine as the officer pulled back._

_‘Sorry,’ Greg grunted._

_‘Not to worry, it was just ice,’ the man said and turned back to the bar._

_Greg remained where he was, eyes running over the younger man slowly. God, he really was cute; and adorable, pretty, absolutely fuckable. Greg had never wanted to fuck another man and felt out of his depth._

_As if the man had only just realised Greg was still there, he turned slowly and said, ‘Can I help you?’_

_Greg cleared his throat and tried a charming smile. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’_

_The man jolted in his seat, adorable bright blue eyes going wide and lips parting. Greg wanted to reach out and touch those lips._

_‘You... you want to buy me a drink?’_

_‘Yeah,’ Greg said, wondering why that was so surprising. The man was obviously gorgeous._

_‘Erm, I’m flattered, but I’m really... I’m not gay.’_

_Greg had been with enough guys to know when someone was attracted to him. The young man was licking his lips, his pupils were dilated in the dark glow of the club, and he was running his eyes up and down Greg’s body._

_‘It’s just a drink,’ he said and slid onto the stool beside the man. ‘We’ll see how the night goes.’ He winked and the man blushed, turning away quickly. ‘So, you want that drink?’_

_‘Erm... yes, okay.’_

_He sounded nervous and Greg smiled, turning to catch the bartender’s eye._

_‘I’m Greg,’ he said and slid the bourbon across the bar._

_‘Um...’_

_‘This is where you tell me your name.’_

_The man blushed again and licked his lips. ‘M-Myc.’_

_‘Myc?’_

_‘Yes,’ the man nodded._

_‘Nice to meet you, Myc,’ Greg smiled and raised his glass._

_Myc took his and clinked their glasses together. ‘You too... Greg.’_

_Greg smiled._


	4. Kisses And Fights

Lestrade jolted from his memories and turned swiftly, dropping his cigarette on the concrete floor. ‘Let me out!’ he shouted.

‘ _No_ ,’ Sherlock replied.

‘Sherlock, please, I’m begging you,’ Lestrade said, close to breaking down. He couldn’t think about Myc anymore, couldn’t bear to remember the way the man had looked in that club. God; those lips, those eyes, his _body_.

‘LET. ME. OUT!’

‘ _Sherlock, what if he’s having a panic attack?_ ’ John asked.

‘ _He can suffer through it like I did._ ’

‘ _Sherlock–_ ’

‘ _NO._ ’

John sighed and sat on something hard, no doubt staring at the door. Lestrade clawed at the steel, whimpering as more memories of Myc assaulted him. His whole body shook and he slid to the floor, pressing his face to the concrete.

‘Please...’ he mumbled. ‘I... can’t...’

He was lost again in a sea of memories.

 

\--

 

_Myc giggled again and slopped alcohol down his front. ‘Oh, I quite like this shirt.’_

_‘Quite,’ Greg snorted. ‘What are you, fifty?’_

_‘I am twenty, thank you very much,’ Myc scowled._

_‘Hey, I’m just saying.’_

_‘I’m sick of people underestimating me because of my age,’ Myc sighed._

_‘Is that a big thing in your line of work?’_

_Myc nodded and downed half his drink, the fourth Greg had bought him. ‘I work for the government.’_

_‘Ooh, are you a spy?’_

_Myc smirked. ‘Greg, even if I was I couldn’t tell you.’_

_‘Do you have a licence to kill?’_

_‘You’ll have to use your imagination.’_

_Greg chuckled and sipped his drink. ‘Well I take you very seriously.’_

_‘Really?’ Myc asked._

_‘Mm... you look very serious in those trousers.’_

_A nice red colour burned across Myc’s cheeks and he swallowed. ‘Greg, I’m not gay.’_

_‘Neither am I.’_

_Myc frowned. ‘Then why are you buying me drinks?’_

_‘Can’t one man buy another man a drink without it leading to sexual intercourse?’_

_‘I suppose so,’ Myc said slowly._

_Greg smiled and bought him another drink, hoping it would lead to some very nice sexual intercourse._

_-oOo-_

_They were both close to being completely sloshed when an older man came over, all smiles and winking. Greg scowled as the man turned to look Myc over._

_‘Hey there, gorgeous.’_

_‘Hello,’ Myc squeaked, looking down quickly._

_‘The name’s Len. Can I buy you a drink?’ the man asked._

_‘No, no thank you, I have one,’ Myc said and held up his half full glass. Greg grinned, glad that Myc had said yes to him and no to this fucker._

_‘Come on, drop curly here and come be with a real man,’ Len said._

_Myc turned pinker and shifted on his stool. ‘No, I’m quite alright.’_

_‘Come on.’_

_‘No,’ Myc insisted._

_Len reached forward and grabbed Myc’s chin, dragging his face up. ‘Come on, cutie.’_

_Greg was on his feet before he knew it. He pushed Len back and stood between him and Myc._

_‘The man said no,’ Greg snarled._

_‘What are you, his boyfriend?’ Len asked, looking to make sure he hadn’t spilt his drink._

_‘Yeah, I am,’ Greg said, not caring if Myc left because he’d lied. He couldn’t stand seeing the older man’s hands on Myc; he_ wouldn’t _stand it._

_‘Come on, I just wanna touch his pretty mouth.’_

_‘The man said_ no _.’_

_Len shoved Greg back roughly and he bumped into Myc, the younger man yelping. Len reached past Greg and pulled Myc from the stool._

_‘Let me go!’ Myc shouted, trying to pull the man’s fingers free._

_‘Come fuck a real man,’ Len slurred._

_Greg ripped Len’s hand free and swung. His fist connected with Len’s face and the older man stumbled back, falling into a group of girls and making them squeal._

_‘Don’t fucking touch him!’ Greg snarled, feeling Myc shudder behind him._

_‘You little fucker!’ Len shouted, dropping his drink and advancing on Greg._

_Suddenly Myc was between them, twisting Len’s arm back and tripping him. The man hit the floor hard and Myc pushed a foot into his back, twisting his arm until it cracked._

_‘Don’t you dare hit him!’ Myc hissed, fury radiating from his body. Len whimpered and Myc twisted his hand around more, wrist threatening to snap._

_Everyone had moved back when the fight started and Greg could see security coming for them._

_‘Myc, let him go.’_

_‘No, he was going to hurt you.’_

_Greg rested a hand on the taller man’s shoulder and felt Myc flinch. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’_

_Myc finally nodded and let Len go. Greg grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the entrance, people parting around them. They stumbled into the cold night and started running, putting as much distance between themselves and the club as they could. They made it a few streets before Greg tugged Myc into an alley and forced him against the wall._

_Myc grunted but made no attempt to move, not even when Greg forced his hands above his head._

_‘Why’d you do that?’ Greg asked._

_‘He was going to hit you,’ Myc said._

_‘So? I can handle myself.’_

_‘So can I,’ Myc frowned._

_‘Yeah, I saw that,’ Greg said and licked his lips. Myc suddenly seemed so much hotter than before. ‘Who taught you how to do that?’_

_‘The training comes with my job.’_

_‘Spy?’ Greg asked._

_Myc snorted. ‘I already told you, Greg.’_

_‘No, you avoided the subject.’_

_‘Hmm, so that means I must be a spy.’_

_They shared a chuckle and eyed each other, both aware their bodies were pressed together. When Greg shifted the half-hard erection he’d been sporting since setting eyes on Myc pushed against the other man’s thigh._

_Greg swallowed and dropped Myc’s hands. ‘I’m sor–’_

_He was cut off when Myc pressed their lips together, eyes closed and tongue coming out. Greg groaned before pulling back, panting despite the kiss being quick._

_‘What?’ Myc asked._

_‘I... I thought you weren’t gay,’ Greg said._

_‘I thought you weren’t either but your cock seems to say otherwise.’_

_Greg swallowed. ‘You... you’re fucking hot.’_

_‘So are you.’_

_‘You’re attracted to me?’ Greg asked._

_‘Yes,’ Myc nodded._

_‘Right,’ Greg said._

_‘Erm... what do we do?’ Myc asked._

_Greg pushed Myc back against the wall and kiss him, groaning when warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. He pushed his hands through Myc’s hair, loving the soft strands. He pressed their bodies together and moaned when he felt Myc’s hard prick nudge his waist._

_Greg pulled back suddenly and smiled at the swollen lips he saw. Myc was panting, eyes wide and pupils blown with lust._

_‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked. ‘I’ll stop if you aren’t... if you are I’m never, ever stopping.’_

_Myc swallowed carefully before saying, ‘Don’t stop, please.’_

_Greg forced their lips together again, Myc groaning as Greg’s tongue darted into his mouth._

_‘I’ve never... had sex... with a man...’ Myc mumbled, tilting his head and sucking back on Greg’s tongue._

_‘Me either,’ Greg admitted._

_‘I want you to fuck me,’ Myc said, ‘now, please.’_

_Greg smiled. ‘Are you always so polite when asking for sex?’_

_‘Fuck me now!’_

_Greg grinned and pulled back, grabbing Myc’s wrist. ‘Come on, my place is around the corner.’_

_Myc grinned as Greg tugged him from the alley and down the street, both their hearts jumping._


	5. First Times

**Chapter Five: First Times**

 

Lestrade’s body shuddered as memories of that night assaulted his mind. He wrapped his arms around himself and could swear he felt Myc breathing against him. It’d been so long since Lestrade had thought about Myc, his Myc. It had been over twenty years since they’d last seen each other.

Lestrade hauled himself up and to the toilet, vomiting stomach acid into the steel basin. It made him feel sicker and his head thumped, a migraine building behind his eyes.

God, he wanted the pain to end; the emotional pain and the physical pain and the pain of being apart from the man he loved.

Lestrade spat into the toilet and rubbed at his bruised and sweaty eyes. It would never end, ever. For twenty-three years Lestrade had been thinking about Myc and trying to ignore the twinge in his chest, the ache in his gut. The detoxing wasn’t helping and Lestrade’s body twisted again.

He thumped his head against the toilet and closed his eyes, wishing the images of Myc breathless from running and kissing would leave. He couldn’t take it anymore, any of it. He didn’t want to think about Myc... Myc...

... the first and only man he had ever had sex with.

 

\-- __

_They were all tongues and teeth and wet sucking noises when they entered Greg’s flat. Myc didn’t bother asking for a tour as they stumbled through the living room, into the hallway, and finally fell onto the officer’s bed._

_Myc moaned and thrust himself up as Greg straddled his hips, already ripping the younger man’s clothes. He got Myc’s shirt off and stared at the pale, toned flesh. Myc’s chest was covered in a soft layer of ginger hair and Greg licked his lips._

_‘Oh God,’ Myc groaned as soft lips circled his nipple. Greg’s tongue was hot and wet as it lapped at Myc’s skin, the small nub quickly hardening so Greg could tweak it. ‘Fuck.’_

_Greg’s left hand played with Myc’s other nipple and he felt Myc getting harder and harder beneath him._

_‘Greg, please,’ Myc begged, pushing his hips off the bed._

_‘God you’re polite.’_

_‘Fuck you,’ Myc muttered._

_Greg smiled and caught his lips again, sucking on Myc’s tongue before moving back. He pulled off Myc’s shoes, socks and trousers before palming the hardening flesh. Myc groaned and thrust into the touch, rutting against the officer’s hand and biting his lips._

_Finally Greg could take no more; he had to see Myc naked. He ripped the man’s underwear down and groaned. Myc’s cock was long, thick and weeping pre-ejaculate just for Greg. By now a master of blow jobs, Greg leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Myc’s cock._

_‘Oh,’ the younger man moaned, closing his eyes as Greg sucked on his shaft. ‘Oh, God.’_

_It was the first time Greg had_ wanted _to suck another man’s cock and he moaned. It was brilliant, amazing, sexy... God, was Myc hot in his mouth._

_‘G-Greg,’ the younger man moaned, ‘gonna... fuck...’_

_Greg pulled back when he felt Myc’s balls tighten and licked come from his lips. Myc was panting and flushed red, chest heaving with each breath. He smiled weakly as Greg moved forward to kiss him._

_He moved again to pull his top draw open, finding a condom box and bottle of lube._

_‘Wait!’ Myc said._

_Greg felt disappointment stab through him. ‘Changed your mind?’_

_Myc rolled his eyes. ‘Idiot, I want to...’ he trailed off and bit his lip._

_‘Want to what?’ Greg asked._

_‘I want to... what you just did.’_

_Greg grinned. ‘You wanna suck my cock?’_

_‘Greg,’ Myc groaned._

_‘You want me to fuck your mouth?’_

_‘Greg, really.’_

_‘You wanna–’_

_Greg was pushed back and Myc pulled at his trousers, Greg chuckling and removing his own shirt. Myc froze, eyes rolling over the officer. Heat flushed his face and Myc swallowed._

_‘Well?’ Greg asked._

_Myc got back to his task, pulling his lover’s pants free and staring at his boxers. Greg made a show of hooking his thumbs under the waistband, knowing he had strong abs and hips. Myc swallowed convulsively as, finally, Greg kicked his boxers free._

_The (spy, Greg told himself) didn’t seem to know what to do. Greg was too hard to sit still for long and began stroking his cock, spreading pre-come with his thumb. He moaned softly as his fingers brushed along his sensitive head, biting his lip and closing his eyes._

_He was basically fucking his fist and coming dangerously close to... well, to coming. Suddenly soft hands were on his thighs and Greg peeled his eyes open. Myc was kneeling next to him, his own cock still hot and hard. He licked his lips and looked up at Greg._

_‘I... what do I do?’_

_Greg smiled and grabbed one of Myc’s hands, bringing it to his cock. Myc moaned softly as he wrapped his slender fingers around Greg’s shaft and began pumping. Greg swore and bucked into the feeling, Myc’s fingers teasing his leaking cock._

_‘You seem awfully calm,’ Myc noted._

_‘I’m practically biting my lip off over here,’ Greg grunted._

_Myc smiled. ‘You don’t find it weird doing this with a man?’_

_‘I’ve got hand jobs before, and blow jobs, from men.’ Myc raised an eyebrow and Greg sighed. ‘It’s... a long story.’_

_‘I see,’ Myc said softly, eyes piercing. The officer felt like Myc could see right through him; like he could read the drug habit and alleyway fuck ups and all the shit Greg had done in his short life. He swallowed and looked away._

_Myc’s lips were suddenly around his cock and Greg groaned. He forced himself to stay still, not wanting to penetrate Myc’s mouth too much; he remembered what his first time had been like._

_Myc was very, very talented and soon had Greg moaning and clawing at the sheets. After a spectacular three minutes he had to stop the younger man._

_‘Did I do something wrong?’ Myc asked, a dribble of pre-come slipping down his chin. Greg pulled himself up and licked the come away, Myc blinking before his cheeks darkened._

_‘You’re perfect,’ Greg said, ‘but I don’t wanna come in your mouth.’_

_‘Oh,’ Myc said and turned a darker shade of crimson. It looked like Myc couldn’t quite believe that he’d almost made another man come._

_‘Can I...’ Greg said slowly, feeling his own cheeks flush, ‘... can I fuck you now?’_

_Myc nodded and reached for the condoms Greg had abandoned. He ripped one open and rolled it onto Greg’s cock, showing that he wasn’t a virgin, at least not completely; he’d slept with women._

_Greg pushed Myc back and forced his legs open, Myc fiddling with the pillow behind his head. He bit his lip as Greg popped the cap of the lube bottle, squeezing cold gel onto his cock. He rubbed for a minute, making sure he was dripping wet, before dropping the bottle and looking at Myc._

_‘Are you sure?’_

_‘Yes,’ Myc nodded._

_‘Okay.’ Greg bit his lip and moved, positioning his cock at Mycroft’s arse. He pushed softly and, after shifting a bit to find his entrance, the head of Greg’s cock squeezed past Myc’s muscles._

_Myc groaned and closed his eyes tightly, hands curling into fists._

_‘Keep... keep going,’ he murmured._

_Greg pushed in slowly, feeling Myc’s heat and tightness squeeze around him. It was different to being inside a woman, Greg thought as he was completely encased._ Oh God, it’s so much better.

_Myc moaned as Greg paused, moving his hands to grip Myc’s legs._

_‘You alright?’_

_‘Mm,’ Myc nodded._

_‘Does it hurt?’_

_‘Little,’ Myc managed. ‘Just... give us a sec.’_

_Greg nodded and made sure to stay still. Soon he couldn’t help but drift his hands over Myc’s thighs, loving the soft skin and light hair. Myc muttered something Greg didn’t catch as the officer’s hands moved to touch his stomach, circling his bellybutton before moving south._

_Myc’s eyes snapped open when Greg touched his cock. His mouth fell into a wide O, breathing picking up when Greg stroked softly._

_‘Oh... I like... I like that...’_

_Greg smirked. ‘You like me touching your cock? Wow, that’s new for a man.’_

_Myc was feeling too many things to care about Greg’s tone. He licked his lips and pushed down, Greg’s cock sliding deeper in._

_‘Oh.’_

_‘Oh?’ Greg asked._

_Myc squirmed on the bed. ‘Move, please.’_

_‘You sure?’ Greg asked and Myc nodded. ‘Alright,’ Greg said and dropped Myc’s cock. He gripped the younger man’s hips and pulled out slowly before thrusting back in._

_Myc swore and bit his lip, his face bright red. He was sweating, ginger-brown hair sticking to his forehead. Greg moved again, starting a slow thrusting that had Myc swearing more._

_‘You alright?’ Greg asked. He badly, badly wanted to fuck Myc harder; the man was squeezing around him so nicely, the heat was all Greg could think about. He wanted to fuck Myc into the mattress long and hard._

_‘Harder!’ Myc demanded._

_Greg complied, upping his movements until he was pulling half out. He pushed back in and suddenly Myc jumped, hips lifting off the bed before dropping heavily. He gasped loudly and wrapped his legs around Greg’s hips, pulling the man in._

_Greg fell against Myc’s chest and suddenly there were hard and hot lips against his own, Greg moaning. ‘Wh-what?’ he managed._

_‘Fuck, harder!’ Myc begged._

_‘Really?’_

_‘I think you hit my prostate,’ Myc groaned. ‘Do it again, please!’_

_Greg managed to right himself and drew all the way out before thrusting in, hard. Myc jumped again and groaned, hand wrapping around his cock. He began pumping quickly, eyes locking onto his lover’s._

_He looked so hot and beautiful and_ desperate. _His eyes were screaming for Greg to move faster and the older man had no choice but to comply._

 _The bedroom was filled with the_ slap, slap, slap _of skin on skin as both men grunted against each other. Greg had never felt this turned on in his life and kept his eyes open so he could watch Myc fuck his fist._

_The younger man was shouting obscenities as he was fucked, eyes tearing up and tongue licking at his lips. Greg twisted his body so he could kiss Myc, pushing the man’s thighs against his stomach._

_‘Greg... can’t reach my... cock...’_

_Greg moved his chest back and forth so Myc’s thighs rutted against his cock. Myc groaned as Greg captured his lips, lifting his legs off the bed to fuck Myc harder._

_‘God... right..._ THERE!’

_Warm liquid spilled across Myc’s stomach and legs, the man groaning and writhing beneath Greg as he came._

_‘Oh fuck, of fuck, fuck me, fuck, fuck,_ fuck _!’_

 _Greg was vaguely aware of Myc uttering the word_ fuck _at least another twenty times as he continued to pound into the man. Myc had tightened around him when he came and Greg was close to an orgasm, his muscles straining as he continued the relentless pace._

_‘I... gonna... come...’ Greg moaned._

_Myc sucked Greg’s tongue into his mouth before peppering kisses along his sweaty jaw. ‘Keep going...’ Myc murmured. ‘You’re so close, I can tell.’_

_Greg moaned, Myc’s voice doing amazing things to his already heated groin._

_‘How long can you fuck me?’ Myc whispered. ‘How long, Greg? You’re the first one to fuck me, my arse is a virgin. Am I tight? Am I getting tighter?’_

_He purposely squeezed himself around Greg’s cock and felt the older man shudder._

_‘Oh_ GOD! _’ Greg shouted as he came, fingers digging into Myc’s thighs as he shuddered above him. The orgasm was like nothing he’d ever experienced, every fibre of his body being ripped apart and forced back together in a new and interesting form._

_Greg pulled out and Myc winced, Greg apologising (at least he hoped Myc knew he was apologising, all he could manage was a gurgle). The officer moaned as he rolled onto his back, body aching and lungs burning._

_Myc was little more than a lump, body basking in the glory of being penetrated by a man for the first time. He managed to raise a hand and rub his eyes, feeling thoroughly fucked._

_‘That... was... amazing,’ Myc murmured._

_‘Yeah?’ Greg asked._

_‘Mm,’ the politician nodded. ‘Most... most definitely. I want to do that... again.’_

_‘Me too,’ Greg said._

_‘Really?’ Myc asked._

_Greg smiled and rolled over. ‘Yeah; that was fucking amazing.’_

_Myc chuckled and said, ‘Can you get a towel?’_

_Greg pulled himself from bed and stumbled to his bathroom, peeling off the condom as he did. He couldn’t quite believe he’d fucked a man as he wet a towel and went back to the bedroom._

_Myc had pulled the covers back and was waiting for Greg. He gave his older lover a small smile as Greg dabbed at his stomach and arse, Myc wincing slightly._

_‘Sorry, sorry,’ Greg said and threw the towel over his shoulder. He climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around Myc, nuzzling into his neck._

_‘S’fine,’ Myc murmured and yawned. ‘Really, I’m... I’m...’_

_‘Fucked?’ Greg supplied._

_Myc managed a nod before he fell asleep, right hand tangled in Greg’s. Greg smiled and rested his head against his partner’s chest, enjoying the soft rise and fall with every breath he took._


	6. Perfect

**Chapter Six: Perfect**

 

Lestrade’s cock was feeling particularly hot and heavy even as he shivered violently, his body temperature dropping from one end to the other in minutes. He curled his arms around himself and took deep breaths, trying to forget the memory of fucking Myc.

Myc.

 _His_ Myc.

Lestrade sighed, giving up. He couldn’t _not_ think about Myc; couldn’t keep memories of the man from his head. He remembered Myc’s soft skin, hard cock, his smile and laugh and the little thing he did with his tongue. He remembered waking up after a rough night of booze, drugs and sex and finding Myc there. Myc was always there; Lestrade thought he’d _always_ be there.

They’d enjoyed so much time together; had been a couple for over a year. Lestrade had learnt all there was to know about Myc... other than his real occupation, why he insisted he was on a diet, anything about his family and, most importantly, his last name.

Lestrade had asked once, about a month after they started seeing each other. Myc had smiled and reached for his hand before saying, ‘ _Greg, dear, my name doesn’t matter; nothing matters but you and me. Us, okay?_ ’

Lestrade knew it was wrong; knew their relationship was more about binging on drugs and alcohol and fucking each other senseless than getting to know each other. It had been unhealthy, life-threatening, they’d done so many stupid things...

... but there was the good stuff too. The time Lestrade was sick and Myc waited on him hand and foot for three days. The time they’d fed each other breakfast and exchanged soft, slow kisses on the tube. The day Myc admitted that he loved Lestrade... and Lestrade loved him back.

No one had been as amazing or deadly as Myc. He’d been thin and tall, lean and slim... and he’d had a fierce temper, throwing around anyone who dared touch Lestrade for too long. They’d protected each other, had been there for each other. They’d passed so much time just lying on the roof of Lestrade’s building and talking about nothing.

Lestrade had loved him, _did_ love him. He loved Myc with all his heart. Twenty-three years ago Lestrade had walked away, had told himself it was the right thing to do. Eventually he’d married and had a kid, had been made a DI and met the insane Sherlock Holmes.

He told himself each and every day that his life was fine, that he was fine, even when he was snorting coke in some grubby hotel to get away from his wife. He told himself time and time again that he didn’t need help, that he didn’t miss Myc as he fucked his own fist, memories of the man crushing his brain.

Sitting in that cell detoxing, nose running with snot and coke, Lestrade told himself he didn’t still love the man; that he didn’t still love the one man who had accepted him for who he was, for all his faults and talents...

... it was getting harder and harder to lie.

 

\--

 

 _Greg woke to the feeling of someone stroking his hair. He shifted and had to roll over to see that it was Myc... a man... a man he’d_ fucked.

_‘Oh God, we had sex.’_

_Myc smirked. ‘Yes, I do remember that. You were rather good.’_

_‘We... oh my God.’_

_‘Re-considering your sexuality, Greg?’_

_Greg smiled. ‘I suppose I have to, yeah.’ His skin itched slightly and he realised he wanted some coke. Nothing big; he didn’t snort the drug all the time. He just needed a little jump-start in the morning._

_‘So...’ Myc said slowly, eyes roaming over Greg’s naked top. ‘We had sex.’_

_‘Didn’t we just discuss that?’_

_Myc rolled his eyes. ‘It’s a big deal, you know.’_

_‘Why, you a virgin?’_

_‘No,’ Myc said hotly, ‘I’m twenty, not twelve.’_

_‘So you’ve slept with people?’_

_‘If by_ people _you mean_ women _then yes, I have.’ He paused and dropped his hand back onto the pillow. Greg found he missed the other man’s soft touch. ‘I was a virgin in the sense that I’d never slept with another man.’_

_‘Me too,’ Greg said and smiled as he looked at Myc. ‘So, what’s the verdict?’_

_Myc smiled. ‘I would like to... do it again...’ A nice pink colour tinged his cheeks and he looked away. He was back to being the shy, polite man Greg had first met the previous night. He smiled and pushed forward, pressing their lips together and licking the younger man’s tongue._

_‘Me too,’ Greg said when they broke apart._

_‘Really?’ Myc asked._

_‘’Course,’ Greg said, ‘though I wanna try it the other way around.’_

_Myc blinked. ‘You... you want me to... to...’_

_‘Fuck me? Yeah.’ Myc blushed again and Greg smiled. ‘I had my cock in your arse, mate, I think it’s about time you stopped being so embarrassed around me.’_

_Myc buried his head into Greg’s pillow, drawing the covers up over himself._

_‘Hey, I’m sorry,’ Greg tried, grinning despite himself._

_‘Go away,’ Myc grunted._

_‘No, come on, don’t be a child.’_

_‘I’m not a child!’ Myc shouted._

_‘Okay, okay,’ Greg said, ‘easy, s’alright.’_

_Myc grumbled again and refused to come up, even for air. Greg sat for five minutes waiting for the man’s resolve to crumble but it seemed Myc was very, very good at sulking._

_‘Fine, I’m going to the loo.’_

_‘Mmf,’ Myc grunted._

_Greg chuckled and reached under the blanket to pinch Myc’s arse. The man squealed and pulled away, nearly falling out of the bed. Greg giggled and rolled from bed, a pillow thumping into his back as he left._

_The police officer had a stash of coke in the bathroom and pulled it from the top draw. He poured a little onto his hand and dropped the packet before pressing a finger to one nostril._

_He snorted, the drug breaking the blood-brain barrier quickly and sending a thrill through Greg’s body. He grinned and rubbed at his nose, sniffing to make sure the drug had been snorted completely. He put the drugs away before washing his hands and turning–_

_– to find a half-naked Myc standing in the doorway._

_‘Fuck,’ Greg started and stepped back. ‘I, erm... how-how long have you been there?’_

_‘Long enough to see you stuff cocaine up your nose,’ Myc answered, eyes searching the cop’s face._

_‘Right, right. I, erm... look, we don’t really know each other and... I’m clean and everything and... well there’s no reason to bring this up, is there?’_

_‘You mean with your superiors at Scotland Yard?’_

_Greg’s eyes widened. ‘How’d you know I’m a cop?’_

_Myc shrugged. ‘I can tell; I’m good at... reading people.’_

_‘Right... right...’ Greg murmured, shifting from foot to foot. He ran a hand through his hair and said, ‘So...’_

_‘I’m not going to tell anyone.’_

_Greg blinked. ‘You... you’re not?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Why?’_

_Myc shrugged again. ‘I don’t care.’_

_‘You don’t care?’ Greg asked and Myc nodded. ‘I just... I fucked you last night, you sucked my cock, I sucked_ your _cock, and then you find me snorting coke and... you don’t_ care _?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Why?’_

_Myc sighed and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Greg...’ he trailed off and looked away._

_‘What?’ Greg asked._

_Myc looked at him, arms folded. ‘You really haven’t seen them?’_

_‘Seen what?’_

_With a look of resignation, like he really didn’t want to, Myc unfolded his arms and stepped closer. When he was within touching distance he held up his arms, forearms facing Greg. ‘Look.’_

_Greg did, eyes running from the soft, pale hands up the equally pale forearms with thick blue veins to the man’s inner–_

_‘Oh.’_

_Myc nodded. ‘Yes..._ oh _.’_

_Greg swallowed as he once again ran his eyes over Myc’s inner elbows. The soft, pale flesh was marked with tiny black circles; track marks, evidence of a regular drug user. Greg’s eyes flickered to Myc’s and the man shoved his hands under his armpits, trying to hide his arms._

_‘You... you use?’ Greg asked. Myc nodded. ‘Erm... what do you... what?’_

_‘Cocaine.’_

_‘You inject it?’_

_Myc nodded. ‘It’s easier to hide than snorting; I wear suits all the time at work so nobody knows. A bloody nose would be difficult to hide.’_

_‘Right,’ Greg said, knowing his clogged nose had nearly got him caught heaps of times at the Yard. ‘How long?’_

_‘Two or three years,’ Myc said._

_‘Since you were eighteen?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Right,’ Greg nodded. He really had to stop saying that. ‘So we’re both young people with good jobs, a drug habit, and a sudden need to be fucked by a man.’_

_A flicker of amusement went through Myc’s eyes before he pushed it away._

_‘We’re perfect for each other,’ Greg said. That got him a smile. ‘Completely fucked up.’ Myc grinned. ‘And absolutely fabulous in bed.’_

_Myc giggled and sighed when Greg wrapped his arms around the thinner man. ‘You don’t... you don’t mind?’_

_‘What, that you’re a drug addict?’_

_Myc paused before saying, ‘Yeah.’_

_‘No, I am too.’_

_‘Okay, good.’_

_‘Good?’ Greg asked._

_‘Mm,’ Myc nodded. ‘Means I don’t have to leave.’_

_‘I don’t want you to leave.’_

_‘No?’ Myc asked._

_Greg shook his head. ‘Nope. You still gotta fuck me, Mr Druggie Spy.’_

_‘I’m not a spy.’_

_‘You_ are _a druggie though.’_

_Myc rolled his eyes and pulled Greg back to the bedroom. ‘Should we get you nice and fucked now?’ he asked._

_‘Oh God, yes,’ Greg grinned._

_Myc smiled and tugged him onto the bed._


	7. Never Leave

**Chapter Seven: Never Leave**

 

Lestrade blinked in the sudden harsh light, shielding his eyes as the door creaked open. ‘What?’ he mumbled, back pressed to the cold wall. He’d been going through the shakes and sweating, his shirt stained and his mouth tasting of vomit. He felt a bottle being pressed into his hand and looked down.

‘Soft drink,’ John Watson murmured, crouching to look Lestrade in the eye. ‘Get some sugar into you.’

Lestrade sipped from the bottle, the liquid burning his already raw throat. ‘Thanks,’ he grunted.

John smiled and Lestrade tried not to think of another smile... one with light pink lips, one on a young man completely naked above him...

He turned away and John asked, ‘You okay?’

‘No.’

‘You’ll be right soon. Should pass in a few hours.’

‘Can’t you let me go?’ Lestrade asked. ‘Please?’

‘Don’t think so,’ John shook his head. ‘Even if I wanted to let you out Sherlock would probably tackle me to the floor; Donovan too. They’re real chummy over the matter.’

‘Oh great,’ Lestrade muttered, ‘the one bloody thing they agree on is keeping me locked up.’

John sighed and rocked back on his heels. Lestrade knew what was coming; the talk.

‘Greg,’ he said slowly and Lestrade turned away. ‘How long have you been a drug addict?’

‘I’m not.’

John scoffed.

‘Seriously, I’m not.’

‘Right, so snorting coke isn’t a drug addiction?’

‘Nope,’ Lestrade said and took another swig of his drink. ‘Just a... momentary lapse in judgement.’

John sighed. ‘Greg, I’ve heard plenty of people claim they don’t have a problem. They tell everyone, and themselves, that they’re fine, that the drugs don’t have a hold on their life. Each time they’re wrong.’

Lestrade wasn’t an idiot; he knew that, once upon a time, he’d been a serious drug addict. But that was before Myc and with Myc and just after Myc... then he’d got clean, he hadn’t gone on a massive binge in years. The last time had been his wedding anniversary. He’d fought with Sharon, he’d stayed at a hotel... he’d stroked his cock thinking about the one man that made everything better while he snorted his way through a bag of cocaine.

Lestrade swallowed. ‘John, honestly, I’m alright.’

‘Really?’

‘No.’

John raised his eyebrows, surprised at Lestrade’s sudden honesty.

‘John, I’m not alright, not by a long shot,’ Lestrade sighed and looked up at the doctor. All he saw was caring and warmth... Sherlock Holmes was a lucky man. ‘But I haven’t been a serious user since I was in my twenties. Honestly, I only slip every now and then.’

‘How often?’ John asked. Not judging, just asking.

‘Last time was three years ago,’ Lestrade admitted.

‘Why?’ John asked.

Lestrade bit his lip before he found words tumbling from his mouth. ‘My wife and I fought. I took off, stayed in some hotel. Spent the week high as a fucking kite.’

‘And Sherlock didn’t know?’

Lestrade shrugged. ‘I dunno; he’s never said anything.’

John nodded slowly before asking, ‘And this time?’ Lestrade shook his head. He couldn’t talk about Myc, not with John... not with anyone. ‘Greg, I won’t judge.’

‘No.’

‘Please–’

‘ _No._ ’

John sighed and stood, stretching as his knees popped. ‘Greg, I’m gonna go now but in an hour I’m coming back and asking you the same questions, alright?’

Lestrade shrugged. ‘Doesn’t mean I’m gonna answer.’

‘No, you probably won’t,’ John nodded, ‘but I’m still going to ask.’

‘Why?’

‘’Cause I care about you; Sherlock does too.’ Lestrade snorted. ‘Scoff all you want,’ John said, ‘if Sherlock didn’t care he wouldn’t be here.’

Lestrade stared as John exited the cell, the door slamming shut behind him. He heard John talking about him outside to Sherlock and Donovan and sighed, shifting to hug his knees. He didn’t want to be there, in the cell, with people all around _worrying_. He didn’t want it, he didn’t need it.

He just wanted to... what _did_ he want? Lestrade didn’t know anymore. He wanted some drugs, maybe a beer. He wanted to kiss his son goodnight and curl up with a warm body...

God, he should at least be honest with himself.

Lestrade wanted Myc.

 

\--

 

_They fell onto the bed kissing, Greg hugging Myc tightly. He couldn’t believe the man was a junkie; he didn’t look the type. He was all tall and lean and posh... but under the suits he was just as messed up as Greg._

_Greg ran his fingers over Myc’s inner-elbows, feeling the track marks under the pads of his thumbs. He moaned softly and kissed Myc harder._

_‘Track marks turn you on?’ Myc grunted._

_Greg was beginning to realise the man was a lot looser in bed. ‘Mm, maybe.’_

_‘How odd.’_

_‘Sexy.’_

_Myc chuckled and pushed Greg onto his back. Greg smirked as Myc straddled him, bending to kiss him hard and push forward. Their erections rubbed together and Myc began moving, their trapped cocks growing harder and hotter._

_‘Fuck me now, you wanker.’_

_‘Such uncouth language,’ Myc tutted. ‘What am I going to do with you?’_

_‘Fuck me?’ Greg asked._

_‘Is that what you want?’_

_‘Duh.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘Maybe I’ll just rub myself up against you all day long.’_

_‘Don’t you have a job?’ Greg asked._

_‘Don’t you?’ Myc countered._

_‘Just get your cock out.’_

_‘How is that after one round of sex with another man you’re so comfortable?’ Myc asked, leaning back to look Greg over. ‘I find it fascinating.’_

_‘You feel comfortably too, don’t you?’_

_‘Yes but I’m...’ he trailed off before looking Greg in the eye. ‘I’m different.’_

_‘How so?’_

_‘I’m a genius.’_

_Greg snorted but his smirk drifted away when he realised Myc wasn’t smiling. ‘Are you serious?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘You’re a genius?’_

_‘Have been all my life.’_

_‘What’s your IQ?’_

_‘I honestly don’t know.’_

_‘Then how can you tell you’re a genius?’_

_Myc rolled his eyes. ‘Greg, I can speak seven languages. I am the most indispensable man in the country, I have contacts in every part of the world and I could write and solve complex equations by the time I was four. I. Am. A. Genius.’_

_Greg was silent all of four seconds before saying, ‘So not a spy?’_

_Myc groaned and pulled himself off._

_‘What? What’d I say?’_

_Myc sighed. ‘Greg, I’m twenty-years-old,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve always been different; my whole life. It’s one of the reasons I do drugs.’ He bit his lip. ‘I scare people because I’m different. I’ve always had a hard time grasping emotions and connecting to other people.’_

_Greg shifted to lean on one elbow, eyes on his lover._

_‘I’m a genius and it’s not always a good thing. If I wasn’t I’d have a better relationship with my parents. If I wasn’t I could have a nice, normal life. If I was just a little dumber I’d... I’d be happy.’_

_Greg reached out to cup Myc’s cheek; the man looked ready to cry._

_‘Hey, I believe you.’ Myc blinked at him. ‘I don’t care about any of that.’_

_‘You don’t?’_

_‘Not unless you start speaking another language in bed... and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.’ Myc smiled. ‘We’re all different, Myc; I’m messed up too. Look at me, I’ve been a drug addict since I was your age. I have a good job, loving parents, I could probably settle down with a nice girl if I wanted. But what do I do? I snort coke and offer blow jobs to get more.’_

_‘You do?’_

_‘Yeah,’ Greg nodded, swallowing and looking away. ‘I’m just as messed up as you, Myc.’_

_‘You’re not messed up.’_

_‘I am.’_

_‘Not.’_

_Greg sighed. ‘I am, Myc. But right now that doesn’t matter. Does it ever matter? We’re all gonna die one day. Might as well go out with a bang.’_

_Myc smirked. ‘You sound like my brother.’_

_‘He must be a genius too.’_

_‘Well...’_

_Greg smiled and pulled Myc closer. ‘None of that shit matters; none of our shit matters. Can’t we just be together? Can’t you just fuck me into the mattress and make me scream your name?’_

_Myc blushed and ran a hand down Greg’s side. ‘Well, I suppose I could.’_

_‘Good,’ Greg said. ‘So none of it matters, alright? Politics and criminals and parents and all that shit, it don’t matter.’_

_‘Doesn’t.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘It_ doesn’t _matter,’ Myc corrected. ‘Not_ don’t _.’_

_‘You’re a prat.’_

_‘And?’_

_‘Get over here.’_

_For once in his life, Myc let go. He melted into the kisses and pulled at Greg’s pants, wrapping long fingers around that hard cock he’d grown to admire. Greg groaned and bucked into the touch, lips desperate and tongue licking away._

_‘Fuck me...’ he mumbled. ‘P-please?’_

_Myc swallowed before nodding. He slipped from his own bottoms and watched Greg do the same, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was going to have sex with a man... again. This week was full of surprises._

_Greg handed Myc the bottle of lube and the politician slicked up his fingers. He pushed Greg back and the police officer spread his legs, shivering in anticipation._

_‘Are you sure about this?’ Myc asked._

_Greg nodded, arousal and fear spreading through his body in an exhilarating mix. ‘You seemed to enjoy it,’ he said and smiled at the blush that worked up Myc’s pale neck. ‘I’m... curious.’_

_‘You’re weird.’_

_‘Curiously weird.’_

_Myc rolled his eyes and touched Greg’s cock slowly before moving down to his arse. He rubbed lube between his cheeks before looking up at Greg for confirmation. The older man nodded and gripped the sheets as Myc pushed a finger in._

_It didn’t hurt; it just felt weird. Greg shifted on the bed as Myc pulled his finger out before going back in, thrusting in and out slowly over a minute or two. His eyes were locked on Greg’s, the officer staring down at where Myc’s finger disappeared into him._

_‘Another?’ Myc asked and Greg nodded. He added his middle finger and this time a small bolt of pain speared through Greg’s lower half. He clenched before forcing himself to relax, biting his lip as Myc continued to fuck him with his fingers._

_‘It gets better,’ Myc said._

_‘When?’ Greg asked._

_Myc grinned and pushed a third finger in, scissoring them and sending a spasm of pain through his older lover’s arse._

_‘Owe, fuck!’_

_Before Greg could ask him to stop, Myc had twisted his fingers to touch the small cluster of nerves that would send Greg wild._

_The pleasure was like nothing Greg had ever experienced before. He moaned and thrust himself down, wanting Myc to do that again. He did and Greg writhed on the bed, pushing more and more until he was fucking himself on Myc’s fingers._

_‘Please, fuck, need you!’_

_Myc removed his fingers and fiddled with a condom, finally rolling the rubber on and slicking himself up. He pushed Greg’s legs apart and held his breath as he slid in._

_Greg groaned in pain before Myc started thrusting, not being anywhere near as gentle as Greg had been with him. There were a few moments of Greg biting his lip and wanting to stop but then Myc’s cock hit his prostate and everything was so good again._

_‘Fuck, there, right there!’ Greg shouted._

_Myc pulled all the way out before jamming himself back in, moaning at the sensations assaulting his body. Fucking a man was... it was so good._

_Greg felt every nerve, every fibre, every goddamn little atom of his body alight with fire. What Myc was doing with his cock, with his hands, with his lips and tongue and breath and_ voice. _How the fuck was one man capable of making Greg feel so great? How could one man hit every single spot the officer had without knowing them? How could–_

_‘Oh God, never stop,’ Greg begged as one of those talented hands wrapped around his cock to pump in time with their thrusts. ‘Never, ever stop.’_

_Myc had somehow managed to be everywhere at once; his cock slid in and out of Greg with a precision that had Greg gaping. His right hand was wrapped firmly around the older man’s cock, thumb caressing his head and spreading copious amounts of pre-ejaculate. His left was gripping Greg’s hip, nails digging in and adding little spears of pleasure every time he squeezed harder. His lips were hard on Greg’s, their chests rubbing together as Myc stole Greg’s breath with every hard kiss, tongue lapping at the sweat clinging to Greg’s skin._

_‘Oh fuck,’ Greg moaned as another stab at his prostate had his body burning and aching. He was so full, so thoroughly full, he felt like Myc had climbed right into him. He never wanted the man to leave; he wanted to be fucked like this each and every night._

_‘M-Myc... gonna... fuck!’_

_He came suddenly, spewing across Myc’s hand and his stomach. Myc continued to thrust, drawing out the longest and most amazing orgasm Greg had ever felt. Everything went white then black then some colour Greg had never seen before. There were stars and planets and an entire goddamn solar system dancing around his head as he shouted again, the pleasure threatening to make him implode._

_‘Oh God, oh God, Jesus Mary Fucking Christ!’_

_He squeezed tighter and tighter around Myc until the man could move no more; an orgasm was torn from his body, a scream from his lips. It was muffled as he crushed his mouth against Greg’s, each man panting into each other and kissing._

_When Myc finally pulled out Greg was truly fucked. He’d never felt so completely and utterly satisfied. He’d never walk again, or eat or work or snort coke. No, he didn’t want any of that. He wanted Myc; now, later, forever._

_‘Fucking hell,’ Greg groaned, trailing a hand through the sticky come on his stomach. ‘Are you sure you’ve never done that before?’_

_‘Yeah,’ Myc grunted, vocabulary shooting out the window as soon as he’d entered Greg._

_‘I... fuck me, Myc. I... God, seriously, you could make money with that level of skill.’_

_Myc chuckled. ‘Are you asking me to pimp myself out?’_

_‘I’ll pay you a million dollars each fuck.’_

_‘I’m rich enough, thanks.’_

_‘Genius. Rich. Drug addict. Un-fucking-believable in bed. I’d marry you if I could.’_

_‘Oh, what a man will say after a good screw.’_

_‘I’ll say anything if we do that again,’ Greg said._

_‘I was really that good?’_

_Greg, somehow, managed to roll over so he could look at the other man closely. ‘Myc, seriously. If I could feel any of my body parts I’d let you fuck me again. Unfortunately you’ve ruined me.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘Good.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘It means only I can have you.’_

_‘Oh God, I’ll never have sex with anyone else,’ Greg said, grabbing Myc and drawing him in for a sloppy kiss. ‘Seriously, you’ve absolutely ruined me.’_

_Myc chuckled. ‘So I should get over my insecurities?’_

_‘Oh yeah,’ Greg nodded. ‘You’re so fucking good in bed you could be a mass murderer and I wouldn’t give a fuck.’_

_‘Interesting.’_

_‘Shut up.’_

_They held each other softly, both staring and smiling and kissing and touching. Greg felt all his problems and fears melt away when Myc pressed a kiss to his lips._

_‘Stay?’ Greg asked._

_‘I don’t wanna go anywhere.’_

_‘Good,’ Greg said. ‘I’m never letting go.’_

_‘Mm?’_

_‘Oh yeah.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘Good.’_

_‘Good?’_

_‘Good.’_


	8. Drugs

Lestrade could hear them through the walls. They were talking about him and Sherlock and him and Donovan’s second cousin and _him._ He didn’t like it; didn’t like that they knew and were discussing it like he wasn’t even there.

He had ears, he could fucking hear them. He wanted to get up and shout and smack all three of them. But really, the floor was very comfortable and Lestrade was so tired. His whole body ached and he felt physically and emotionally spent.

Too many thoughts of Myc, too many memories and feelings and it all _hurt_. Lestrade wanted his mind to shut up. He wanted the hurt to stop and he just...

... he wanted everything to go away. He wanted Sherlock and John and Donovan and everything to fucking go away!

He groaned loudly as John’s voice reached his ears.

‘ _He said he’s been clean two or three years; I believe him._ ’

‘ _Really?’_ Sherlock asked. __

 _‘Yeah; he isn’t detoxing too badly so he isn’t a regular user, at least not anymore. But the fact that he turned to drugs because he was upset points to a deep-rooted problem._ ’

‘Shut up, John,’ Lestrade mumbled.

There was a pause before, ‘ _Do you think he’ll be okay?’_ Sherlock sounded worried and Lestrade hated him. He didn’t want Sherlock Holmes worrying about him. He didn’t want _anyone_ worrying about him.

‘ _Shouldn’t we call his wife?’_ Donovan asked.

Lestrade and Sherlock snorted at the same time.

‘ _That will do nothing but cause more problems,_ ’ Sherlock said. He sighed suddenly and shifted from foot to foot. ‘ _I don’t... I don’t know how to help him._ ’

‘ _What’s wrong with him?’_ John said. ‘ _Did it have something to do with Mycro–_ ’

Lestrade stopped listening there, crushing out their voices in favour of slinking further onto the floor, back pressed against the concrete and chin resting against his chest.

 _Make it stop_ , he begged someone, anyone; himself, God, the fucking tooth fairy. _Stop, stop, STOP!_

It didn’t stop. Nothing made the hurt stop.

 

\--

 

_Greg woke to find his whole body hurt and his mind ached. He managed to sit up and looked around, realising it was dark. He’s slept through the entire day. Moaning, Greg got to his feet and went to the kitchen for some water. It wasn’t until he got back that he realised Myc was gone._

_Greg felt a small stab of pain in his heart which he didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he and Myc were dating; they’d known each other all of two days, less actually. Of course Myc would leave and not bother saying goodbye. It was fine, all fine... it was fine, right?_

_When Greg saw Myc’s trousers on the floor he released a lungful of air he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He turned and headed for the bathroom, wondering if the genius was in there._

_He pushed the door open and spotted Myc. The tall man was sitting with his back to the wall, legs crossed. He was wearing a pair of Greg’s tracksuit pants and looked absolutely delicious._

_Greg paused when he spotted the syringe. It was sitting on the edge of the bath, a rubber band and small plastic case beside it. There was a spot of blood on Myc’s inner elbow and he was smiling, looking up at Greg with hazy eyes._

_‘Hi there,’ Greg said._

_Myc grunted._

_Greg shuffled into the room and sat down beside Myc, pulling the man in for a hug. ‘You alright?’_

_‘Mm,’ Myc mumbled, voice slurred because of the drugs. ‘Fine.’_

_‘Good.’_

_‘Yeah?’ Myc managed._

_‘Yeah,’ Greg nodded. ‘You look fucked.’_

_‘Feel fucked.’_

_Greg smiled. ‘Must be good stuff.’_

_‘Yeah,’ Myc nodded slowly. ‘Stops... stops my brain.’_

_‘Your brain?’_

_‘Too fast,’ Myc said softly. ‘Brain goes too... too fast. Make it... wanna make it stop...’_

_Greg pulled Myc in closer and hugged the man softly, murmuring unimportant things in his ear. Myc looked thoroughly strung out and Greg smiled to himself, glad Myc was still there. He didn’t care about the drugs; how could he when he took them himself?_

_He had Myc; that was all that mattered. He barely knew the man, didn’t even know his last name._

_None of that mattered. Not one bit._

_-oOo-_

_‘Why do you do it?’_

_Greg shifted in the bed to look at Myc. It was nearing midnight and both were strung out, just lying in bed, cuddling and kissing._

_‘Hmm?’ Greg murmured._

_‘Why do you take drugs?’ Myc asked. ‘Why do you snort cocaine?’_

_‘Oh... I dunno.’_

_‘You don’t know?’_

_Greg shrugged. ‘I can’t remember why.’_

_‘When did you first try it?’_

_Greg shifted through his memories and found it; a hot girl, a straw, a pub toilet._

_‘I was horny,’ he said and Myc chuckled. ‘Shut up.’_

_‘Sorry, go on.’_

_‘I was horny,’ Greg repeated with a shrug. ‘I wanted sex and she talked me into trying coke. I didn’t like it after; the throwing up, the headaches.’_

_‘So why’d you do it again?’_

_Greg sighed. ‘Dunno. I guess... life got hard, you know?’ Myc nodded slowly. ‘Trying to find work and get through training and my family... everything was just shit. I went to a few parties,’ he frowned, mind fuzzy from all the coke, ‘I... I tried it again and...’_

_‘You got hooked?’ Myc supplied._

_Greg nodded. ‘Suppose I did, yeah. Now I just... I have to, you know? Makes everything better.’_

_‘Besides the detoxing.’_

_‘Mm, that’s a bitch.’_

_‘Just life taking away the high.’_

_Greg smiled and rolled over to look at Myc properly. ‘Why do you do it?’_

_‘Shuts my brain up,’ Myc answered immediately. Greg raised his eyebrows, forcing the younger man to elaborate. ‘My head... it moves too fast, it never shuts up. I see so much, Greg, I see_ everything. _Sometimes I just... I_ need _it to shut up. If it doesn’t I go insane.’_

_Greg nodded along, knowing he didn’t have the first idea about being a genius. He could only imagine how fast Myc’s brain ran._

_‘I started when I was eighteen. University introduced me to cocaine and ecstasy and all kinds of things. Coke... it’s the only thing that works. For a few minutes I can just..._ be _, you know? I don’t have to think about_ anything _. I just... I just exist.’_

_Greg smiled and picked up Myc’s hand, twining their fingers._

_‘You don’t think that’s stupid?’ Myc asked._

_‘’Course not,’ Greg shook his head. ‘You need some relaxation is all.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘No one knows about this; not even my brother.’_

_‘Is your brother a genius?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘I suppose you’re smarter?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_Greg loved how Myc answered; he wasn’t gloating or being smug about it. He was just laying out the facts, telling Greg the truth with a slight hint of weariness. Myc didn’t expect anyone to trust him or like him. He expected Greg to laugh at the fact that he was a genius drug addict. He expected Greg to push him away and leave._

_Greg didn’t want to leave. Myc was... he made everything okay. For the first time in his life Greg didn’t feel like an idiot; a worthless piece of shit. He felt okay with himself. He felt like he was actually worth something, like his drug addiction and his fuck ups and everything was just... okay._

_Myc didn’t just make life bearable... he made it fun._

_Greg smiled and leaned forward to kiss Myc gently, loving the man’s soft lips on his own._

_‘I like when you kiss me.’_

_‘Yeah?’_

_‘Very manly,’ Myc said._

_Greg chuckled. ‘I’d hope so.’_

_‘I can’t believe I’m sitting with another man in bed.’_

_‘Technically you’re lying down.’_

_Myc grinned and pushed him away. ‘Shut up.’_

_‘Nope, not gonna get rid of me.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘Really?’_

_‘No; I like you.’_

_‘I like you too.’_

_‘Do we sound like stupid teenagers?’ Greg asked._

_‘Most definitely.’_

_Greg smiled and rolled onto Myc’s front, pressing their bodies together. ‘I’ll stay if you stay.’_

_‘Promise?’_

_‘I promise, Myc.’_

_They kissed softly, lips pressed together and tongues still in their mouths. Greg pulled back and ran his eyes over Myc’s pale face, his soft lips and perfect ginger-brown hair._

_‘You make everything better, Myc.’_

_‘Is that so?’_

_‘Mm-hmm.’_

_Myc grinned. ‘How about I make things_ really _good?’ He raised an eyebrow coyly and Greg giggled._

_‘How you gonna do that?’_

_Myc grabbed him under the sheet and suddenly nothing else mattered._

_-oOo-_

_After another round of fantastic sex, Myc had to go. He stood kissing Greg at the officer’s door, arms hooked around the shorter man’s neck._

_‘Don’t go,’ Greg begged._

_Myc chuckled. ‘We’ve been over this.’_

_They’d been kissing for half-an-hour, Myc getting later and later for work._

_‘Please?’ Greg asked._

_‘We’ll see each other again.’_

_‘You say that now,’ Greg said. ‘But you’ll meet some younger guy and go give him amazing sex.’_

_Myc tutted. ‘Honestly, who else would put up with me?’_

_‘Everyone; you really are a fantastic shag.’_

_Myc smiled and kissed him again. When they drew back they just stared at each other; each man drinking in the other’s appearance._

_‘Thank you,’ Myc said, ‘for buying me drinks and standing up for me and fucking me and...’ he trailed off and smiled. ‘Thank you for understanding about... about the drugs.’_

_Greg shrugged. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘You just wanna relax.’_

_Myc nodded slowly. ‘My brain never stops, Greg. It just goes a hundred miles an hour all day every day. But when I’m high–’_

_‘I get it,’ Greg repeated, cutting the younger man off. ‘S’fine, really.’_

_Myc smiled and kissed him again. ‘I have to go. I’ll see you soon.’_

_‘Promise?’_

_Myc chuckled. ‘I promise.’_

_Greg smiled and leaned against his door to watch Myc leave, a sleek black car pulling up and Myc climbing in the back. It pulled away and Greg sighed, feeling his stomach twist. How had he grown to care about a man so much in a matter of hours?_

_It didn’t make sense... Greg didn’t think he really cared._


	9. Meeting Again

Lestrade wiped sweat from his forehead, fingers twitching. He lit another smoke and could barely hold it, nearly burning himself four times. There was a knock on the cell door and Lestrade called, sarcastically, ‘Come in!’ Sally Donovan entered and Lestrade asked, ‘Am I being released?’

Sally looked him over carefully. Her boss was pale, his eyes sunken and bruised. The stubble along his jaw looked dark and somehow painful, like the very hairs were hurting the DI. She bit her lip.

‘I’m not being released,’ Lestrade said and groaned when Sally nodded. ‘Come on, Sal, lemme out.’

‘No, Doctor Watson said not to.’

‘Oh, well let’s all listen to Doctor Watson,’ Lestrade scowled.

‘Sir,’ Sally began before swallowing, ‘Greg... why wouldn’t you tell me?’

‘Tell you what?’

‘That you were having... problems.’

‘I don’t have problems,’ Lestrade muttered. ‘I had a problem and I dealt with it.’

‘By snorting cocaine?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long have you been an addict?’

‘I’m not an addict.’

Sally sighed. ‘Sir–’

‘Either let me go or leave me alone.’

Sally ran her eyes over her boss again before stepping outside, shutting the cell door with a heavy thud. Lestrade groaned and leaned back, blinking against the anger.

 

\--

_Greg sniffed to clear his nose (in vain; it was good and clogged tonight) before snapping the case shut and leaving the cubicle. He washed his hands, smiling at a few guys, before leaving the toilets._

_The club was packed with party-goers, a few eyeing Greg up as he slipped through the crowd. He ignored them all in favour of getting a drink, sucking down the entire pint before ordering another._

_He sat on the edge of his stool and sighed, scratching a hand through his hair. He hadn’t seen Myc in two weeks and was feeling a bit... it was like he was going through withdrawal; his skin ached and burned for the man. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in Myc’s neck and suck back on the pale skin._

_But he hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t seen him. He was beginning to think the entire thing was a dream..._

_... until he saw the man himself through the crowd._

_Greg couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as Myc approached. He was dressed in a navy blue suit that highlighted his eyes, his tie held in place by a bright red waistcoat and expensive tie pin_

_As soon as he got within touching distance Greg dragged him in for a kiss, not caring if it was what Myc wanted or if anyone was watching; he needed to taste the politician now. He didn’t care if people were against homosexuality or wanted to thump him; he_ needed _Myc right then and there._

_Myc melted into the kiss, pressing his body against Greg’s and grabbing his hips. When they broke apart for air Myc groaned and said, ‘I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me.’_

_‘Why?’ Greg asked, peppering kisses along Myc’s jaw._

_‘I don’t know.’_

_‘I wanna fuck you right here, right now,’ Greg hissed into his ear, the younger man shuddering._

_‘Is that so?’ Greg nodded. ‘Maybe I should have a few drinks first.’_

_Greg grinned and ordered another round, he and Myc clinking their glasses together before downing the lot._

_-oOo-_

 

_Both men were thrumming with lust and drugs; cocaine spearing through their bodies and making everything bright and sharp. Greg pushed Myc into the cubicle and slammed the door shut, mouths hot and hard against each other._

_‘God I missed you,’ Myc groaned, fingers twisting painfully in the officer’s hair._

_‘Mmf,’ Greg grunted before pulling at his trousers. He got them down before starting on Myc’s, taking the man’s cock in his mouth as soon as it was free._

_‘Fuck,’ Myc groaned loudly, not caring if anyone could hear him. His veins sizzled with cocaine and fire, Greg making obscene noises around his shaft. ‘Oh God.’_

_‘Fuck me,’ Greg demanded._

_Myc blinked. ‘I don’t have a condom.’_

_‘Fuck that.’_

_‘Fuck everything,’ Myc grinned as Greg turned, bending himself over the toilet._

_‘What are you waiting for?’ the older man demanded._

_Myc entered him swiftly, both men groaning at the sensation. Neither was going to last long and five minutes later they were coming together, Myc spilling into Greg and Greg leaking over his fist._

_They stayed connected for a few minutes, blinking back stars and getting their breathing under control. Myc slipped out and they both pulled their pants up, Greg grinning._

_‘What?’ Myc asked, doing up his belt._

_‘Your come, in me,’ Greg said and Myc blushed. ‘Gonna be there all night.’_

_‘You could clean yourself.’_

_‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Greg asked, lips pushing against Myc’s. He hissed in the younger man’s ear, ‘I’m still wet, Myc.’ Myc shivered. ‘Wet and full of_ you _. Later you can fuck me again; I’m already lubed up.’_

_That shouldn’t be as hot as it was but Myc couldn’t bring himself to care._

_‘Come on,’ Greg said and grabbed his hand. ‘Your turn to buy me a drink.’_

_-oOo-_

_Everything fell into place; the two men fell into a routine. It was like Greg had been with Myc his entire life. They went days without talking; both their jobs were hard, demanding. But when they_ were _together everything... it worked._

_They’d usually meet at Greg’s, one or the other bringing coke to start the night. Myc tried snorting it and moaned about his nose for two days. Greg tried injecting it and found the high took too long to hit._

_Instead Greg would watch Myc mix the solution before injecting it, leaning back and groaning when the high hit. Myc would grin when Greg stuck a straw into his nose, sniffing back and shouting._

_They knew it was wrong; the coke was going to kill them. Each and every time they looked at each other as if to say, ‘No more. This is the last time.’_

_It was hard to say no hours later when their bodies were pressed together in a club or pub or dark alley. It was hard to say no when cocaine heightened the sexual stimulation they forced upon each other._

_It was hard to say no when they woke up side by side, grinning at each other and sharing soft, lazy kisses._

_Greg had never been so happy; nothing mattered when Myc was around. His job, his family, all his fucked up problems and his fucked up past... Myc made it all go away._

_Greg never wanted him to leave._

_He was... he was falling for the man_ hard _._


	10. Family

For some reason Sherlock decided family was a good subject to discuss with his boyfriend and... whatever Sally was to him. Lestrade could hear them through the walls. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted them to shut up or talk louder. On one hand stories about their families would take Lestrade’s mind off Myc. On the other it reminded him of Sharon and Luke.

Lucas was the cutest baby Lestrade had ever seen. He had big brown eyes and a tuff of dark brown hair that was already curling. Everyone said he was the spitting image of Lestrade... Sharon hated it.

He remembered meeting Sharon four years ago, just after meeting Sherlock. He’d been... fine, not happy but fine. Sharon was sweet and beautiful and wonderful really. So Lestrade dated her and moved in with her and married her. Fuck, he had a kid with her.

Even though he loved someone else.

He’d never told Sharon about Myc; he’d never told anyone about Myc. He couldn’t bring himself to confess to Sharon that he now preferred men over women; that he’d rather fuck or be fucked by a strong guy... preferably one that wore three-piece suits.

Sharon was at her sister’s and had taken Luke with her. She’d been there since Christmas; since Lestrade had come home and shouted at her for cheating on him. She hadn’t denied it; she never denied it. She just packed a bag and took his son.

He’d been surprised when he hadn’t slipped; when he had snorted enough coke to shut his brain up for good. Somehow he’d got through it; he’d trudged along... until midday when he’d–

Lestrade swallowed and closed his eyes, tears threatening to break free. He’d survived twenty-three years; two long decades with only a little heartache and a few relapses. But everything had come crashing down in five minutes.

 

\--

_Greg leaned over the back of the couch to press a soft kiss to Myc’s neck. The politician hummed as he continued mixing cocaine, bottles and syringes ready. There was a knock on the door and both men froze. They’d had surprise visits from Greg’s partner and his superiors, sometimes while high._

_Myc swept the drugs under the table and sat back, straightening the cotton tee he’d borrowed from Greg. Greg made sure he didn’t look high as he answered the door._

_‘Mum?’_

_‘Greg, darling,’ Lori smiled and stepped into the messy flat. ‘I told you we were coming to visit.’_

_‘You did?’ Greg asked. His mother nodded and pushed past Greg to look at the flat, wrinkling her nose at what she saw. Greg knew the place was a pigsty; there were clothes and videos and empty takeaway containers all over the place. Myc stood as Greg hugged his dad, shutting the door and turning._

_‘Hello,’ Lori smiled at Myc. ‘I’m Lori, Greg’s mum.’_

_‘I gathered,’ Myc said and put on his most charming smile._

_‘This is Myc,’ Greg said and looked the taller man up and down._

_‘Myc?’ Matthew asked._

_‘Yeah,’ Greg nodded. ‘Myc’s my boyfriend.’_

_Greg was inclined to blame the coke; he’d snorted a line twenty minutes before his parents turned up, some must have been floating around his brain. Because if he was sober he would_ not _have just told his parents he was dating a guy._

_‘Oh God,’ he groaned, as if he’d suddenly realised what he said. The drugs... the drugs... BAD DRUGS! NAUGHTY!_

_‘You’re... what?’ Lori demanded._

_‘My boyfriend,’ Greg sighed, noting that Myc was fidgeting uncomfortably before the couch. ‘Myc’s my boyfriend.’_

_Lori and Matthew shared a look before smiling._

_‘Greg, be serious,’ Matthew said._

_‘I am.’_

_‘We’re not in the mood for jokes, son.’_

_‘I’m not joking,’ Greg frowned. ‘I’m dating him.’_

_‘W-why?’ Lori asked._

_‘What do you mean, why?’ Greg demanded._

_‘Greg,’ Myc said softly, stepping forward. Something wasn’t right; the police officer wasn’t himself. Bad batch of drugs? Or maybe they’d finally rotted his brain._

_‘No, I don’t see the problem,’ Greg said. ‘I’m dating Myc, so what?’_

_‘But... you’re straight,’ Lori said._

_‘Apparently not,’ Greg said._

_‘Gregory, please stop kidding,’ Matthew tried again._

_‘I’m not kidding!’ Greg hissed. ‘We’ve been dating eight months!’_

_The room went quiet, all eyes flicking between Greg and Myc. The politician wanted to leave quickly; he loved making a hasty retreat. But his clothes were in the bedroom and he didn’t want to leave Greg alone. He couldn’t do that._

_‘Greg, this is... it isn’t real,’ his mother murmured._

_‘It is!’ Greg shouted, anger suddenly burning through his veins. Why was everything hot and wrong? Why was he so angry? ‘I’m fucking Myc and he fucks me too! Wanna hear the details? He’s fucking spectacular in bed.’_

_‘Greg,’ Myc said and grabbed his arms, ‘calm down.’_

_‘No, I won’t fucking calm down!’ Greg hissed. ‘I’m with you, why should I deny it?’_

_‘I didn’t say you had to,’ Myc said calmly, ‘but maybe ease into it.’_

_‘NO!’ Greg shouted and tore his arm free._

_‘Greg, what’s wrong?’ Myc asked._

_‘N-nothing,’ he stuttered._

_‘Greg–’_

_‘I’m fine!’_

_But Myc stepped forward anyway, hand to Greg’s forehead. ‘You’re burning up, come with me.’_

_Myc dragged Greg to the bathroom and heard Lori and Matthew start arguing. He ignored them in favour of calming his boyfriend down. He turned the cold water on in the shower and pulled Greg in, both soaked within seconds._

_Greg began shivering and muttering under his breath, Myc sighing. He slid to the floor and wrapped his arms around Greg tightly._

_‘S-s-sorry,’ Greg mumbled._

_‘It’s alright,’ Myc said._

_‘Don’t leave,’ Greg begged._

_‘I won’t,’ Myc said. ‘I promise.’_

_Lori and Matthew would leave when it became clear their son wasn’t in his right mind. It should have been the first indicator that things were going to fall apart. Both Greg and Myc told themselves they were happy together; they loved each other. The drugs, the nights out, all the fucking and abuse they put their bodies through... none of it mattered when they were together..._


	11. Pain

Lestrade’s body was on fire. No, it was being dunked in ice. Scratch that; a million ants had been let loose and were slowly chewing on his skin. He groaned and shook, muscles twitching and aching and bending and FUCK!

The cell door opened but Lestrade didn’t care; he just wanted the pain to stop.

‘Greg?’

He couldn’t answer; his teeth were clenched together. There was a warm body pressed against his suddenly and he was dragged up. Lestrade whimpered as Sherlock Holmes pulled him in close, long arms wrapping around the DI.

‘You’ll be fine.’

Lestrade shook his head.

‘Everything will be fine; trust me.’

Lestrade didn’t. He didn’t trust anybody. Why did everything hurt? Why did his heart and gut and skin and head _hurt_? Why... why...

Lestrade felt tears spill down his cheeks and he didn’t have the strength to stop them. He’d been barely stumbling through life before that night... now he was drowning in his own hurt. He fucking hated it... he hated himself.

He hated everything.

 

\--

 

_Greg got home to find Myc sitting on the couch, humming loudly and tapping at his legs. There was a syringe on the coffee table and Greg smiled._

_‘Hello beautiful.’_

_‘Mm,’ Myc mumbled._

_Greg didn’t expect anything else; when Myc got high he just wasn’t there anymore. His brain shut down, just like he wanted. Greg didn’t care, as long as Myc was there._

_‘I work too hard,’ Greg complained, kicking his shoes off and sitting on the couch beside his boyfriend._

_‘Should quit,’ Myc slurred. ‘I’ll take... care of you.’_

_‘Really?’_

_Myc nodded._

_‘Ah, my knight in shining armour.’_

_Myc smiled._

_‘I got some more,’ Greg said and pulled a packet from his trousers. He set about cutting the powder up and pushing it into lines. Myc watched carefully, smiling whenever Greg looked at him._

_Greg grinned and left the coke and straw there. ‘Have some if you want,’ he said and stood, stretching. ‘Gonna grab a beer.’_

_He went into the kitchen and heard a snort, smiling as he twisted the bottle cap free. He chugged down half the liquid and cracked his neck, hand wet from the bottle. He stood in the kitchen staring at the wall, letting his body relax after a thirty-two hour shift. Scotland Yard really worked him too hard._

_There was a loud gurgle and a thump from the living room. Greg turned to see Myc on the floor, his body twisting and the man making loud, painful noises._

_‘Myc?’ There was no answer and Greg stepped into the living room. ‘Myc?’_

_His body was convulsing, his hand thrashing out to hit the table. Magazines and drugs went flying as Greg flew across the room, dropping his beer to slide to the floor._

_‘Myc? Myc, talk to me.’_

_His eyes were rolling into the back of his head and his body got jerkier, spasming uncontrollably._

_‘MYC!’_

_Greg groped for his phone, dialling triple nine as he rolled his boyfriend over._

_‘Hello? I need an ambulance, my boyfriend’s overdosing!’_

_Greg dropped the phone and looked down at Myc, panic setting in when he realised Myc wasn’t moving._

_‘M-Myc?’ he whimpered, nudging his boyfriend carefully. ‘Myc?’_

_He’d stopped breathing._


	12. Anger

Sherlock was still holding Lestrade, making soothing noises John didn’t think he was capable of. The doctor was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded as he watched the DI shudder and curl into himself. Suddenly he went still and Sherlock looked down.

‘Lestrade?’

The DI shot to his feet and stumbled back, eyes wide and staring. For a minute he thought Myc was still OD-ing. He thought he was sitting in his living room, watching the man he loved die.

It all came crashing down and Lestrade remembered where he was. He felt anger and hurt and uncontrollable guilt spread through his body. He stumbled into the wall, chest heaving as he tried to breathe. He felt like someone was squeezing his heart, his lungs. He couldn’t breathe or think or–

‘Greg?’ John said softly, stepping forward.

‘Go away,’ Lestrade said.

‘What?’ Sherlock said.

Lestrade’s body shook as anger flooded his system. He couldn’t take it anymore; no more. He was done; done fighting crime and living with Sharon and trying to be a dad. He couldn’t handle Sherlock’s attitude or Sally’s remarks or _anything_. Nothing was right anymore, not since he’d left Myc.

‘Go away!’ Lestrade shouted and jumped at Sherlock. The consulting detective ducked under Lestrade’s arms and the DI fell onto the bunk, groaning and swearing.

‘Lestrade, we’re just trying to help,’ Sherlock said, voice calm and controlled.

‘I don’t want your fucking help!’ Lestrade shouted. ‘I don’t want help, I don’t want anything! Just let me go, leave me alone!’

‘Greg, calm down,’ John said.

Lestrade glared at him. ‘Who the fuck asked you? Did I ask either of you for help? You just walked into my flat and fucking brought me here!’

‘You were high,’ John said softly.

‘So what!’ Lestrade shouted. ‘Don’t you get it, don’t you see? I don’t care anymore! I don’t care about anything, I can’t fucking do this anymore!’

‘Do what?’ Sherlock asked.

Lestrade tore at his hair as he glared at the genius; John had never seen him so out of control.

‘Nothing matters, not since I left Myc!’ Lestrade screamed. He could see Sally behind John but really, really didn’t fucking care. ‘I don’t want to do it anymore! I don’t want to live, what’s the fucking point? What’s the point of getting clean, what’s the point of eating or drinking or _breathing_? What’s the fucking point?’

‘Greg, you don’t mean that,’ Sherlock said.

‘I DO!’ Lestrade shouted. ‘STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO! I’M SICK OF YOUR FUCKING SHIT, SHERLOCK! ALL I EVER DO IS LET YOU IN, ALL I EVER DO IS LISTEN TO YOU AND FOLLOW YOU AROUND! I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE, I DON’T WANT TO!’

John stepped forward, hands up. ‘Lestrade, calm down.’

‘NO!’ the DI shouted and launched himself at John. The doctor managed to push him to the floor and Sherlock grabbed him, dragging his boyfriend from the cell. They slammed the door shut just as Lestrade got up. He smacked his fists against the steel. ‘Let me out!’

‘ _No,_ ’ Sherlock said.

‘Let me out, Sherlock.’

‘ _No._ ’

‘LET ME OUT!’

There was a pause before; ‘ _No_.’

Lestrade whimpered and smashed at the door with his hands and arms and feet and head. He slid to the floor slowly, tears breaking free. His body shuddered and he sobbed loudly as wave after wave of darkness overtook him. He was drowning; he was sinking. He couldn’t...

... he couldn’t get the memories out of his head. He couldn’t forget anything.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

 

 

\--

 

_Greg was there when Myc woke, the taller man groaning, blue eyes flickering._

_‘Thank God,’ Greg groaned and shifted in his seat._

_‘Greg?’ Myc murmured._

_‘I’m here.’_

_Myc smiled and turned to find his boyfriend. ‘Hello.’_

_‘Hi,’ Greg said._

_‘What... what happened?’_

_Greg bit his lip and his shoulders slumped. ‘You OD’d.’_

_Myc blinked slowly until his eyes were wide. ‘Oh.’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_They lapsed into silence, both staring at each other. Greg would never forget the panic, the fear, that had gripped his entire body when Myc stopped breathing. He’d never forget the feeling of his heart tearing itself into little pieces as the paramedics worked on him._

_Greg swallowed and blinked back the tears. He’d never felt this horrible in his life. He knew what he had to do; what had to be done. He’d done this; he’d almost killed Myc._

_He’d almost killed the man he loved._

_‘Greg? What is it?’_

_Greg looked up into Myc’s blue eyes. They were wide, concerned, scared._

_‘We can’t do this anymore, Myc.’_

_‘Do what?’_

_‘This; us.’_

_Myc swallowed. ‘What... what do you mean?’_

_‘We’re not good for each other.’_

_‘Don’t say that.’_

_‘We aren’t.’_

_‘Please, Greg, don’t_ say _that.’_

_‘I almost killed you, Myc. You stopped breathing!’_

_‘It wasn’t your fault.’_

_Greg jumped to his feet, hands curling into fists. ‘Not my fault? I_ gave _you more coke, Myc! I put it right there in front of you! You were so out of it you didn’t even realise you’d OD! You, Myc,_ you _didn’t realise!’_

_‘I made a mistake,’ Myc said._

_‘No,_ I _made a mistake!’ Greg said, suddenly shouting. ‘I nearly killed you!’ he said._

_‘No,’ Myc shook his head, fingers twisting in the hospital sheets. ‘No, no you didn’t.’_

_‘I did!’ Greg shouted. ‘All we ever do is get high, Myc! All we do is drink and funk and do stupid things! When was the last time we sat and talked? Do you even know my last name?’_

_Myc wet his lips but didn’t say anything._

_‘Yeah,’ Greg said, voice dropping, ‘that’s what I thought.’_

_‘Greg–’_

_The officer shook his head. ‘No, Myc, I can’t do this anymore,’ he said, his heart falling apart piece by piece, word by word. ‘You nearly died yesterday because of me. The world nearly lost you because I was so happy to have some cocaine.’_

_He shook his head and backed away._

_‘Greg, please, don’t go,’ Myc begged. ‘Please.’_

_‘I have to.’_

_‘You can’t.’_

_‘I_ have _to.’_

_‘But I love you.’_

_Greg felt tears spill down his cheeks and he turned away. ‘I love you too,’ he whispered, ‘but we’re poison, Myc, we’re bad for each other.’_

_‘No,’ Myc whimpered, ‘Greg, please. Nothing else matters when you’re around. I can’t live without you.’_

_Greg shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Myc. I love you but... I’m sorry.’_

_‘Greg...’ Myc whimpered, eyes burning._

_‘I’m sorry,’ Greg managed before he was running from the room, from the hospital, from Myc and from everything. His heart thudded loudly and his stomach twisted._

_Nothing mattered now. Not his job or his health or anything._

_Myc was gone._

_Greg was nothing._


	13. Alive

Lestrade blinked back the tears but they kept coming. They washed down his face and made everything hurt. Lestrade shuddered as memories of Myc’s pained, broken face shot through his head.

He moaned and thumped himself against the door. He could hear Sherlock and John; Sally was silent.

‘Please,’ he whimpered.

Nobody answered.

 

\--

_At first everything hurt. It was a haze, a darkness, an endless tunnel that Greg stumbled down as he snorted whatever he could find and fucked whatever girl would take him. Eventually it got easier to hide the hurt, the anger. Greg married and had a kid. He got promoted._

_Greg was sober five months when he met Sherlock Holmes. He fell off the wagon when Sherlock, high, solved the case in ten seconds._

_He was sober two months when Sherlock came back. He lasted a full day when again Sherlock solved the case in under an hour._

_It was like a game, or a dance. Greg would get clean and then Sherlock would appear. He’d fall and fall and fall; he’d sleep around and take whatever people were offering. It was fun for Greg; he made bets with himself to see how long he’d last before he OD’d. He bet himself a year._

_Surprisingly, five years on, the DI was still alive. He was unhappy... but alive._


	14. Mycroft

Lestrade didn’t know how much time had passed. All he knew was that there was a hollow aching in his gut and his teeth hurt. He winced as he pulled himself up and to the tap, splashing his face with water and sipping a mouthful. He fell onto one of the bunks and groaned.

There was a shout from outside and Sherlock’s voice saying, ‘ _Don’t you dare fucking move, I’ll be right there!_ ’

And then murmurs and pounding footsteps and everything was quiet. Lestrade didn’t care anymore, he just sat back and waited.

 

-oOo-

 

Voices woke him from a fitful sleep and Lestrade yawned. He sat up to look at the door, wondering if he’d finally be let out. He wasn’t sure what would happen now; would John try and have him committed? In the past... day, Lestrade was assuming it was a day, the DI had thrown up, shaken, sweated, swore, got violent, cried, and got violent again. Really he didn’t know if he wanted to be let out.

It was quiet in the cell; peaceful. There were no crimes or Sherlock or Myc... there was no Sharon shouting that he was failing as a father; his parents weren’t there to say he was wasting his life. Lestrade could live out the rest of his days just sitting and ignoring everything; ignoring everyone.

It seemed a nice way to live.

The door was pulled open and Lestrade looked up. Someone tall and lanky was shoved into the cell and the door slammed shut.

The man shuddered and hit the door. ‘Sherlock, please.’

Lestrade’s entire body froze and he whimpered. Slowly, achingly slowly, the man turned and Lestrade looked up into his face...

... he looked up into the face of Mycroft Holmes.

 

\--

 

_Greg was in a foul mood even before Sherlock Holmes turned up at the crime scene. He hated having to call the consulting detective but really couldn’t be bothered trying to solve the case himself. He knew it was a bad way to think but Greg really, really couldn’t bring himself to care about his failing life. He ignored Sally and Anderson in favour of having a smoke._

_He looked up as a sleek black pulled up just beyond the crime scene and raised an eyebrow as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson stepped out. Sherlock turned to yell at whoever was in the car before stalking towards Greg._

_Another man exited the car, this one taller than Sherlock and well dressed. The three-piece suit the man was wearing tore at Greg’s heart, reminding him of similar suits on a younger man. With a sigh he pushed to his feet and walked across to Sherlock, the man’s snarls already reaching his ears._

_‘And another thing, Mycroft, why do you insist on stalking John too? Honestly, at least leave_ him _alone!’_

 _‘I do not_ stalk _John, Sherlock, I merely... watch out for him.’_

_The man’s voice froze Greg to the spot and his mouth dropped open. He never thought he’d hear that voice again and it made him feel a thousand things at once._

_John reached Greg’s side and paused. ‘Are you okay?’_

_Greg couldn’t answer. His cigarette burned down, smoke curling into his face, as he looked up at Sherlock and the other man... Mycroft._

_It was him; Greg would recognise that long nose and dark ginger-brown hair anywhere. His skin was as smooth and pale as the day Greg had last seen it, his face clean-shaven and pulled into a mask of calm. His light blue eyes were alight as they locked onto Sherlock, a small flicker of annoyance passing through their depths._

_‘Watch?_ Watch _?’ Sherlock shouted._

_‘Yes, watch,’ Mycroft said._

_Greg made a small squeak when he heard his voice again and John looked at him._

_‘Greg, seriously, are you alright?’_

_He managed to shake his head before Sherlock and Mycroft reached them. Greg didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to see the man he’d loved and lost so long ago. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t..._

_... slowly, Greg looked up and his eyes met Mycroft’s. The taller man gasped and his eyes went wide._

_John frowned as Sherlock said, ‘Lestrade, this is my brother, Mycroft. Mycroft, Detective Inspector Lestrade. Now that that’s sorted, Mycroft can leave.’_

_Neither man moved and Sherlock looked between them. John knew something was wrong as Greg shuddered and dropped his cigarette._

_‘Greg–’ John began, only to be interrupted by Sherlock._

_‘What’s going on?’ the genius demanded. ‘Do you two know each other?’_

_Mycroft shook his head quickly but it was there; in his eyes, his body, the way his lips trembled. He knew Gregory Lestrade... he_ loved _Gregory Lestrade._

_‘What is going on?’ Sherlock demanded again._

_‘I have to go,’ Mycroft said quickly, tearing his eyes away from Greg._

_Greg didn’t want him to go... no wait, he did, didn’t he? He couldn’t be so close to Mycroft and forget all their history... but he didn’t want him to go... it had been too long..._

_‘Please excuse me,’ Mycroft managed._

_He turned quickly and practically ran to his car, slamming the door loudly. It took off immediately, pulling into traffic and disappearing._

_Greg let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He felt weak, his hands were trembling. He hadn’t expected to see Myc ever again... no,_ Mycroft. _His name was Mycroft... Mycroft Holmes._

_‘Greg?’_

_John’s arms had wrapped around the DI’s shoulders when he started stumbling. Greg pushed him away and said, ‘I... I have to go.’_

_‘There’s been a murder,’ Sherlock reminded him._

_‘I don’t care,’ Greg said and started walking. He was aware of Sherlock and John shouting after him but he kept walking._

_-oOo-_

 

 _Greg hadn’t done this in three years. But he had no one at home, no friends to talk to, no partner... he swallowed and shook his head as he stepped around the corner. He couldn’t think about Myc... Mycroft. He_ wouldn’t _think about Mycroft._

_He thought about Mycroft as he stalked towards the dealer, hands curled into fists. When he reached the young man he slammed him into the wall and dug a hand into the thick jacket._

_‘What the fuck?’ the guy demanded._

_‘Shut up!’ Greg hissed and managed to flip open his wallet. He showed the man his badge and warrant card. ‘Unless you want my knee in your crotch you’ll shut the fuck up!’_

_The man was silent as Greg searched him, finally finding what he needed in the man’s back pocket. He pushed back and the man turned to face him, eyes narrowed._

_‘Do you wanna go to jail?’ The man shook his head. ‘Good,’ Greg said, ‘if you wanna stay outta prison you’ll forget this ever happened, got it?’ The man nodded. ‘Well fuck off then!’_

_The drug dealer bolted as Greg turned, heading back for his car. As he climbed in he looked down at his hand, at the bag of powder. He shivered slightly as he pulled on his seatbelt._

_-oOo-_

 

_Greg stood as the rush hit him, cocaine thumping through his system. He snorted again and groaned, his nose already clogged up. He hadn’t had this feeling in years and it was half fantastic half terrible._

_It reminded Greg of night’s spent in bed with Myc, of breakfasts sitting across from the younger man and giggling. It also reminded him of the detox after their break up, of throwing up and crying and just wanting to die._

_It had hurt so much, leaving Mycroft. Greg had tried to move on, had become a DI and even married and had a beautiful son. But he still wanted Mycroft, still needed him. He still loved–_

_Greg punched the wall, the plaster caving around his skin. He cursed as blood ran down his fingers, large, shallow cuts across his knuckles. He thumped his forehead against the wall before turning, slouching back._

_His head was fuzzy, his mind all over the place, but there was still a distinct ache in his gut. It was clawing up through his body, taking over his heart and making it hurt. Even the cocaine wasn’t helping; Greg was still thinking about Mycroft._

Mycroft, Mycroft, Myc... _Greg thought angrily, staring at the wall opposite._ Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft... Myc _. Greg realised he was still wearing his wedding ring even after he’d decided to end his marriage. He ripped it from his hand and threw it across the room, smashing a picture frame and making it fall._

Good, _he thought savagely and smashed his foot into the wall. He punched it again and cried out in pain, more bloody mingling with the dust. Everything hurt so fucking much and Greg didn’t know how to make it go away._

_He placed his injured hand against the wall, the other curled into a fist at his side. He squeezed his eyes shut but it didn’t stop the tears. They ripped their way from his eyes and poured down his face as Greg bit his lip, trying to stop from sobbing._

_The front door open and Greg looked up to see Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The doctor’s eyes went wide, the sociopath’s narrowed._

_Greg didn’t bother pretending he was okay, he didn’t even care if they saw the drugs. He just wanted them to go, he wanted everything to go... he couldn’t do this anymore._

_‘Sherlock,’ he sighed, ‘go away.’_

_‘No.’_

_Greg sniffed as he continued to cry. ‘Leave me alone.’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Why not?’ Greg demanded, standing straight. He managed it for a second before he had to put another hand against the wall, his legs weak. ‘Why the fuck not?’_

_Sherlock’s eyes flicked to the coffee table where lines of cocaine were still made up._

_‘You’re high,’ he said, looking at Greg slowly._

_‘So?’ Greg muttered, closing his eyes. ‘So what... who cares...’_

_‘You know my brother.’_

_Greg sighed and opened his eyes slowly. Sherlock was still at the door but John had edged closer, no doubt waiting to pounce if Greg got violent._

_‘Sherlock, I don’t want to talk about it.’_

_‘How do you know Mycroft?’_

_Greg winced at the name, his heart tearing itself into even smaller pieces. ‘Sherlock...’ he said weakly._

_‘You were lovers.’_

_Greg shuddered._

_‘You’re the Greg he talked about.’_

_Greg’s eyes opened. ‘What?’_

_‘Mycroft has only ever loved one person,’ Sherlock said, ‘and that person’s name was Greg. Your name is Greg... I can’t believe I didn’t put it together.’_

_‘Sherlock,’ Greg said, ‘please, I don’t want to talk about it.’_

_‘You left him.’_

_‘Sherlock.’_

_‘You broke his heart.’_

_‘YES!’ Greg shouted and was satisfied to see both Sherlock and John jump. ‘YES, I FUCKING BROKE HIS HEART! IT WAS ME, I LEFT HIM! BUT I LOVED HIM TOO, SHERLOCK! I... I...’_

_His anger was fast retreating to be replaced by a hollow feeling of need and longing. He couldn’t think about Mycroft anymore, it was too hard._

_‘Just go,’ Greg said weakly, ‘leave me alone.’_

_‘Why?’ Sherlock demanded. ‘So you can get high? So you can kill yourself?’_

_Greg hated him right then. Because of course the mighty Sherlock Holmes had seen the look of resignation on Greg’s face; he’d seen that the DI had given up._

_‘Yes,’ Greg said. Why lie? He didn’t care anymore._

_‘Why?’ Sherlock asked._

_Greg dropped both hands to shrug, eyes locking onto Sherlock’s. ‘Because it’s easier than spending one more minute without your brother.’_

_Sherlock didn’t have an answer for that and the two men stared at each other, John edging closer and closer to Greg._

_Greg closed his eyes and his entire world tilted. He stumbled and found strong arms hauling him to the floor. He was forced onto his stomach, his arms twisted back. Greg was too tired and high to fight back properly but he tried._

_‘Fucking... let... go!’ he shouted, struggling._

_‘No,’ John said calmly, the soldier pushing him against the carpet with strong hands. ‘Stay down, Greg.’_

_‘No!’ Greg shouted. ‘Lemme go!’_

_John just held him down as Sherlock grabbed the DI’s phone, dialling quickly._

_‘Donovan? It’s Sherlock Holmes... listen, Lestrade needs your help.’_


	15. Let Me Out

Both men stared at each other, the room suddenly thick with tension and about twenty degrees hotter. Lestrade looked away first, unable to stare into those giant blue eyes. He swallowed and heard Mycroft turn.

‘Sherlock,’ he said softly, voice spreading through Lestrade like wild fire.

‘ _Yes_?’ came Sherlock’s voice.

‘Let me out.’

There was a pause before; ‘ _No._ ’

Mycroft frowned at the door. ‘Sherlock, let me out.’

‘ _No, I don’t think I will_.’

Mycroft was getting angry now. ‘Brother, open the door right now!’

‘ _No._ ’

‘Stop saying no!’

‘ _Then stop asking to be let out_.’

Mycroft sighed and thumped his head against the door, mind spinning as he tried to focus. ‘Sherlock,’ he said weakly, voice cracked and broken. ‘Please, I’m begging you.’

‘ _No, Mycroft._ ’

‘Let me out!’ Mycroft shouted and slammed his fist against the door. ‘Sherlock, open the fucking door!’

‘ _No,_ ’ Sherlock said hotly. ‘ _You can stay in there until you sober up._ ’

The last two words caught Lestrade’s attention and he turned. He could only see Mycroft’s back; the tall, lean frame wrapped in an expensive silk shirt and waistcoat. Lestrade realised his mouth was open and shut it quickly.

‘Sherlock, please, take me anywhere else; dump me on the goddamn moon,’ Mycroft moaned. ‘Just let me out of this cell.’

‘ _Why? You can keep Lestrade company._ ’

‘Sherlock Arthur Holmes, you open this fucking door!’

‘ _What exactly, dear brother, do you plan on doing if I don’t?_ ’

‘Do yourealise I could have a SWAT team here in three minutes?’

Lestrade could picture the smirk on Sherlock’s face as the genius said, ‘ _Do_ you _realise I took your BlackBerry when I picked you up after you fell against the wall?_ ’

 Mycroft quickly patted down his trousers and waistcoat before swearing loudly.

‘ _Tell me_ ,’ Sherlock continued, ‘ _how many times? Two? Three? I only found one syringe._ ’

‘Sherlock, give me my fucking phone!’

‘ _Hmm... no._ ’

‘Sherlock, I’m serious!’ Mycroft snarled. ‘That phone has country secrets on it!’

‘ _It’s password protected_.’

‘Like a password will keep you out,’ Mycroft muttered.

‘ _I’ve already cracked the first number._ ’

Mycroft groaned and leaned heavily against the door. ‘Sherlock...’

‘ _Mycroft..._ ’

‘Please?’

‘ _No._ ’

Mycroft started swearing loudly and kicking the door, hands aching from slamming them against the steel. He shouted and cursed and kicked and screamed and ended up collapsing onto the bunk opposite Lestrade.

The DI badly wanted to go check him but didn’t trust himself; he didn’t trust Mycroft either. Instead he curled up on his side and closed his eyes, trying to forget the last time he and Mycroft were alone together.

 

-oOo-

 

Mycroft was heaving over the toilet, splattering the stainless steel with whatever he’d eaten that day just like Lestrade had a few hours earlier. The DI kept himself curled up, facing the wall in an attempt to block Mycroft out.

But the man’s presence filled every millimetre of the room, including Lestrade. He could feel Mycroft like a hot blanket, making his skin itch and burn. Mycroft’s breath, his warmth, his cologne... it all washed over Lestrade every time either of them moved.

Lestrade didn’t know how much more he could take. Mycroft was busy detoxing; all Lestrade had were the shakes. His hands were barely twitching now and he wanted to shout for John; the doctor had to let him go. But shouting meant moving, which meant exposing himself to more Mycroft; more hurt and anger and bitterness.

He couldn’t do it.

Mycroft groaned and spat, falling heavily to sit against the wall. Lestrade wanted to turn and look at him but couldn’t.

‘Sher-lock,’ Mycroft mumbled. ‘Lemme... go...’

Lestrade could barely hear him; he doubted Sherlock could. He stiffened when Mycroft shuffled past him, using the door to get to his feet.

‘Sherlock!’

‘ _Yes, Mycroft_?’ It was John and Mycroft sighed.

‘Please let me out.’

‘ _I can’t; you have to sober up._ ’

‘I’m fine,’ Mycroft insisted.

John tutted. ‘ _Mycroft, you had a needle sticking out of your arm when Sherlock found you; you’re not fine._ ’

‘Okay, I’m not,’ Mycroft said. ‘But let me out, please.’

‘ _Why_?’ John asked.

Lestrade felt Mycroft’s eyes on him but refused to move or acknowledge the other man.

‘Please,’ Mycroft begged. ‘I’ll do anything; just put me in another cell.’

‘ _Why_?’ John asked again.

Mycroft groaned. ‘John...’

‘ _Answer me and I’ll put you in another cell_.’

Lestrade bit his lip, wondering if Mycroft was going to reveal everything to the doctor. He breathed a sigh of relief when Mycroft groaned and flopped onto the other bunk, moaning softly to himself.

‘ _A few more hours, Greg_ ,’ the doctor said. ‘ _You’ll be right soon._ ’

Lestrade didn’t bother answering.


	16. All Knowing

_Greg had spread a blanket and had some pillows bunched up at one end. The sky was beautiful, London’s pollution not managing to block out everything. Greg and Myc laid back on the blanket together, drifting in and out of speech. Mostly they just sat there, arms around each other._

_The roof was one of their safe havens; one of the few places they went to to be together without getting high. Myc was resting his head on Greg’s right arm, body warm against the officer’s._

_‘Do you know anything about astronomy?’ Greg asked suddenly._

_Myc flicked cigarette ash off to his side. ‘Other than the fact that the Earth revolves around the sun? No, nothing.’_

_Greg snorted and fiddled with Myc’s shirt. ‘So your genius is selective?’_

_‘Not everybody can know everything, Greg.’_

_‘You know everything.’_

_Myc shifted to look up at the older man, smoke curling around his head. ‘Do I?’_

_‘Yup.’_

_‘I don’t think so.’_

_‘Oh yeah? Who won the last Ashes series?’_

_‘England.’_

_‘What’s the proper name for a wolf?’_

_‘Canis lupis.’_

_‘Erm... who played the first Doctor?’_

_‘William Hartnell.’_

_Greg grinned. ‘Who won the first five Ashes?’_

_‘England.’_

_‘Who played the fifth Doctor?’_

_‘Peter Davison. Greg, do all your questions have to do with Doctor Who and cricket?’_

_There was a pause before Greg asked, ‘Who plays the current Doctor?’_

_Myc snorted and flicked out his cigarette before wrapping an arm around Greg’s waist. ‘You’re an idiot. And the answer is Sylvester McCoy.’_

_‘No,_ you’re _an idiot. And you proved me right.’_

_‘Right? About what?’_

_‘You know everything.’_

_‘Hardly.’_

_‘You do,’ Greg said. ‘You answered each of my questions right.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘How would you know? I could have made it all up.’_

_‘Nah.’_

_‘Why not?’_

_‘I know everything about Doctor Who and cricket.’_

_‘And the Latin name for a wolf?’ Myc asked._

_Greg shrugged, the younger man shifting beside him. ‘You sounded right.’_

_Myc chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to Greg’s cheek before looking back up at the sky. ‘Do you ever wonder about death?’_

_Greg snorted. ‘God, that’s not morbid.’_

_‘I’m serious.’_

_Greg smiled. He and Myc talked about all sorts of weird things on the roof. It was different to the other times they spent together; there was no sex or drugs or alcohol... there was just them, together, doing... nothing._

_‘Yeah, I suppose so.’_

_‘Well?’_

_Greg shrugged. ‘We’re all gonna die.’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_‘Us probably pretty soon.’_

_Myc shifted so he was leaning on one elbow, bright blue eyes staring at Greg with that intenseness Greg hadn’t seen anywhere else. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked._

_‘Come on, Myc,’ Greg said and looked up at him. ‘Look at us.’_

_‘I am; I’m looking at you.’_

_‘Well, look at what we do,’ Greg said and put both hands behind his head. ‘We probably won’t live to see thirty.’_

_‘Yeah,’ Myc nodded, remembering all the drugs they pumped into their systems weekly. ‘Well, I apparently know everything, yeah?’ Greg smiled. ‘So I say you’re going to live ’til ninety.’_

_‘Seriously?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_Greg chuckled. ‘I doubt it.’_

_‘It’ll happen, Greg. I know everything, remember?’_

_Greg smiled and pulled Myc down so they were cuddling again. ‘Right, right; forgot that.’ He paused before asking, ‘Ninety?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Seems a bit old.’_

_‘I’ll still love you,’ Myc said._

_Greg grinned and squeezed the younger man tightly. ‘Yeah?’_

_‘Most definitely.’_

_‘Good,’ Greg said and Myc looked up at him. ‘Good,’ the cop repeated and pressed their lips together._


	17. Leave

‘How could you just leave me?’

Lestrade blinked and rolled over, unsure he’d heard the words correctly. He and Mycroft had been stuck together for hours now and neither had said a word to each other.

Mycroft had drawn his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, his chin on his knees. He was glaring at Lestrade.

‘What?’

‘You just left me there,’ Mycroft said, eyes narrowing. ‘You left me there in hospital to face my parents and my brother. How could you do that? I thought–’ he cut himself off, biting his lip.

Lestrade sighed, realising he’d have to talk it out. He couldn’t exactly walk away.

‘Mycroft, it was the right thing to do.’

‘The right thing to do?’ Mycroft shouted, voice rising. ‘I’d just fucking OD’d and you left me there to face Sherlock!’ Lestrade looked away. ‘He deduced everything! He told my parents I was a drug addict, that I wasn’t getting anywhere at work, that I spent my weekends being fucked into a mattress by a man! You have no idea what I went through after you left!’

He was breathing heavily, voice shaking. Still Lestrade couldn’t bear to look up at him.

‘They sent me to so many doctors and hospitals to fix me! They thought the drugs had somehow turned me into a fag! I tried to tell them I loved you and that you loved me but they wouldn’t listen, only Sherlock listened. There was nothing he could do to help and he just watched me break down.’

Tears were threatening to break free but Mycroft wouldn’t let them go. He wouldn’t give Lestrade the satisfaction of seeing them.

‘I haven’t been with anyone since you because I can’t... I can’t go through that again,’ Mycroft said, voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I can’t love someone with all my heart and then watch them leave.’

‘I had to,’ Lestrade said, finally speaking up. ‘Mycroft, I had to leave.’

‘Why?’ Mycroft demanded.

‘Because we were killing each other!’ Lestrade hissed. ‘All we ever did was drink and shoot up, Mycroft! Were you honestly a hundred percent happy with me?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well I wasn’t!’ Lestrade shouted. ‘I loved you, Mycroft, but I couldn’t sit back and watch you inject yourself with poison every day!’

‘You did too!’

‘That’s my point!’ Lestrade sighed suddenly, chest heaving with each breath. ‘We were killing each other, Mycroft. We were always so fucking high. I know you did it to calm down, to stop your brain from driving you insane, but it wasn’t healthy. When you OD’d... it was my fault.’

He went silent and Mycroft stared at him, cold blue eyes raking over the DI. ‘How was it your fault?’

‘You’d already shot up,’ Lestrade said, ‘when I gave you more cocaine to snort. I just left the lines there on the table... you almost died.’ He bit his lip and slammed his hand against the mattress. ‘It was my fault, Mycroft, and I just couldn’t take it anymore! I couldn’t be the reason you died. If I’d lost you, if you’d gone and fucking died, I... I would have followed you.’

‘What?’

Lestrade looked up at him slowly. Mycroft’s eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly. He looked so lost, Lestrade wanted to hug him tight and never let go. He cleared his throat.

‘I can live without seeing you, Mycroft, and I can live without knowing you. But to continue living if you were dead?’ He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t do that.’ He took a breath, closed his eyes. ‘I’ve survived all these years imagining that you were out there somewhere living well with someone. If you’d died... I would make sure I never took another breath.’

Lestrade felt the mattress sink beside him. Mycroft was suddenly very real and very warm, sitting about an inch beside the DI.

‘Greg, you have to promise me you’ll never do that.’ Lestrade shook his head. ‘Greg... Greg, look at me!’ He did and wished he hadn’t. Mycroft was so close yet so far away. ‘Gregory Lestrade, I never want to hear you say anything like that. You can’t give up just because of me, I’m not worth it.’

‘Yes you are,’ Lestrade whispered.

They fell into silence again, both men pointedly not looking at each other. Lestrade got his breathing under control and Mycroft scrubbed at his eyes. The politician fell back to lean against the wall and memories of him sitting in bed flooded Lestrade’s mind. He remembered Mycroft being so uptight at the bars and restaurants. He remembered Mycroft speaking so well while they downed bourbons and shots.

But when they were alone, sitting on Lestrade’s couch or in bed, Mycroft would slouch and smile. His pompous and correct mannerisms would slip away to reveal a giggling young man who’s smile could make anyone weak in the knees. He was the man Greg fell in love with... the same man sitting next to him in a police cell.


	18. Everything

_Greg and Myc sat on the couch together, staring at the TV without really looking. They were both coming down and Myc sniffed suddenly._

_‘What’s up?’ Greg asked._

_‘You have electricity.’_

_Greg giggled; the TV had been on for three hours. ‘Yeah, yeah I do.’_

_‘Since when?’_

_‘Dunno; must have paid my bill.’_

_‘Since when?’_

_‘Dunno.’_

_‘Is that going to be your answer to everything?’_

_‘Dunno.’_

_Myc grinned and slid further down on the couch, chin touching his chest. His socked feet danced atop the coffee table, toes wiggling._

_‘What are you doing?’ Greg asked._

_‘Dunno,’ Myc answered._

_Greg chuckled and rolled over so his chest rested across Myc’s lap._

_‘What on Earth are you doing?’_

_‘Nah, not Earth; I’m on you.’_

_Myc grinned. ‘Greg, stop being weird.’_

_‘Can’t help it; it’s who I am.’_

_‘No it’s not.’_

_Greg smiled and shifted so he could see Myc, his back now across the younger man’s warm thighs. ‘It’s not?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘So who am I?’_

_Myc smiled and reached down to rub a thumb across Greg’s lips. ‘Your lips are soft.’_

_‘Calling me a fag now?’_

_Myc nudged him. ‘Shut up, I’m talking.’_

_‘Sorry, sorry,’ Greg held up his hands. ‘Go on, my lips are sexy.’_

_‘Soft,’ Myc said._

_‘Same as sexy.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘Your skin is tanned; nice.’_

_‘Sexy?’_

_‘Didn’t I tell you to shut up?’ Myc asked._

_‘I wasn’t listening,’ Greg said._

_Myc chuckled. ‘Your hair is adorable.’_

_‘Adorably sexy?’_

_‘Greg–’_

_‘Sorry, sorry,’ the officer repeated, waving his hands to show Myc he could continue._

_‘Your hands are... you have fabulous hands,’ Myc murmured and linked his fingers through Greg’s, squeezing lightly. He caught Greg mouthing, ‘sexy hands,’ but chose to ignore him. ‘I love your tongue.’_

_Greg raised his eyebrows and smiled when Myc pressed a soft kiss to his lips._

_‘I love your body,’ Myc mumbled and pushed his crotch up, erection pressing into the older man. Greg moaned softly. ‘I love your brain and your humour and your stubble and your eyes and your cock and your arse and, most importantly, I love_ you _.’_

_The next kiss was harder, demanding; needy._

_‘Really?’ Greg asked._

_‘Yes,’ Myc smiled. ‘I love you because you’re Greg;_ that’s _who you are.’_

_‘Hmm,’ Greg sighed._

_‘What?’ Myc asked, worried he’d said something wrong._

_‘Oh, so I’m allowed to talk now?’ Myc nudged him again. ‘I’m glad you love all that.’_

_‘Really?’ Myc asked._

_Greg nodded. ‘Yup. ’Cause I love all that about you.’_

_‘Now you’re lying; please shut up again.’_

_Greg giggled and wrapped his arms around Myc, hauling himself up to kiss him deeply. ‘Love you.’_

_‘Love you too,’ Myc grinned._

_‘Bedroom?’ Greg asked, winking._

_Myc felt heat flush his face. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’_

_Greg pulled himself up before grabbing Myc, dragging the younger man after him. He pushed him onto the bed and leaned over._

_‘So,’ he said slowly and Myc smiled, ‘you like my tongue, huh?’_

_‘Mm, very much.’_

_‘And my lips?’ the officer murmured, running them up Myc’s right arm. He licked over the track marks and Myc shivered. ‘My cock? My arse? Which one do you want, Myc?’_

_‘Both,’ Myc whimpered, curling his body up to latch onto Greg._

_‘Might be a bit difficult,’ Greg chuckled, unwrapping Myc’s arms and kissing his knuckles._

_‘Nothing is impossible, Greg.’_

_‘Can you have my baby?’_

_Myc tutted and rolled his eyes. ‘Stop being stupid.’_

_‘’Fraid I can’t, it’s a requirement for me.’_

_Myc smiled as Greg pulled at his pyjama bottoms. ‘I love you; I love everything,’ Myc whispered as Greg’s fingers wrapped around him._

_‘I love you too,’ Greg grinned and thrust himself down._

_Myc whimpered and groaned, pushing harder and harder into Greg’s warm touch. Greg would never tire of Myc’s noises, of his faces and gasps and_ everything _. He liked everything about the man._

_Every single thing._

_  
_


	19. Talking

‘I always thought you’d come back.’

Lestrade didn’t say anything; just waited for Mycroft to continue.

‘For at least a year I shouted at everyone that you still loved me; that you’d come back and get me. My mother and father were adamant it was the drugs, they told me I was being silly. Sherlock’s the only person who believed me and finally he sat me down and told me the truth.’

‘The truth?’ Lestrade asked, voice croaky.

‘He said you weren’t coming back,’ Mycroft whispered and once more drew his legs up.

Lestrade remembered the movement, could recall it perfectly in his mind. How had he never seen that Mycroft and Sherlock were related? They had so many similar mannerism... Lestrade guessed that was why he’d put up with Sherlock all these years.

‘He said you didn’t love me anymore and that you’d left me because I wasn’t worth it.’ Lestrade’s head snapped to look at Mycroft. ‘I don’t think he ever meant it... I think he knew the truth, that you left to... to protect me. But I needed to hear it. Sherlock knew I couldn’t move on with my life if I was still holding onto the hope that you’d come back.

‘So he repeated it over and over again every day for a month until I finally accepted it; he was only twelve-years-old but he stayed with me. I convinced my parents I was healthy again and they let me go.’

‘Then what?’ Lestrade asked when Mycroft went quiet. ‘What did you do then?’

‘I worked,’ Mycroft said, ‘I busied myself with work and tried not to think about you. But I do, at least once a week I remember you. When I do... sometimes I get high.’

Lestrade winced.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Mycroft said softly. ‘I just can’t stand feeling so empty without you... it’s the only thing that helps.’

Lestrade sighed and leaned back against the wall, cold spreading through the back of his head. ‘I’ve been clean three years,’ he murmured.

‘Two for me,’ Mycroft said.

Lestrade managed a smile. ‘The last time was my wedding anniversary.’ Mycroft shifted beside him and Lestrade could imagine one of his eyebrows going up. ‘I was so miserable that day.’

‘Why?’ Mycroft asked.

‘She... she wasn’t who I wanted to be with,’ Lestrade managed to say, the words not wanting to leave his mouth. ‘Sharon’s a lovely woman but...’ He sighed. ‘I could never love anyone like I loved you.’

Mycroft bit his lip and looked away. He couldn’t stand to hear those words from Gregory Lestrade. When they both sobered up they’d be let go and they’d never speak again, at least not until Sherlock forced them together in a goddamn police cell.

‘I’m not sorry, you know.’

‘What?’ Mycroft asked.

‘I’m not sorry I met you,’ Lestrade said. ‘I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you. I hate to remember some of the things we did; some of the drugs we did. But I was happy with you.’

Mycroft nodded and pulled at one of his shoe laces. ‘I was too,’ he said softly.

They sat without saying anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. Because while it hurt, while the reasons they were together hurt, it was still them. Lestrade was still Greg and Mycroft was still Myc. They were still the same two people who had fallen for each other all those years ago. On the outside they were different, their lives and thoughts were different and there was so much baggage... but they were still _them_.


	20. Hurt

_‘Greg?’ The officer grunted. ‘Greg? Come on, up.’_

_‘Wah?’_

_‘Get up.’_

_‘No-o, go... ’way.’_

_‘Greg, please.’_

_The older man yawned and sat up, always awake when Myc said please. ‘What? What is it?’_

_It was dark, cold, and Greg drew the blankets up over his naked body. He turned in the dark to see Myc sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes narrowed and shivering._

_‘What’s wrong?’ Greg asked._

_‘I had a nightmare.’_

_Greg frowned, puzzled. ‘A nightmare?’ Myc nodded and Greg asked, ‘’Bout what?’_

_‘You.’_

_‘I... I’m confused,’ Greg yawned._

_‘You left me.’_

_Greg’s eyes went wide. ‘What?’_

_‘You left me; that’s why it was a nightmare and not a dream.’_

_‘Oh, Myc,’ Greg sighed and pulled the taller man in, wrapping his arms around Myc’s lithe frame. He sighed again, rubbing his face into Myc’s neck. ‘It was just a stupid dream.’_

_‘Nightmare,’ Myc mumbled._

_‘Sorry, nightmare. I’m not going anywhere.’_

_‘Promise?’_

_‘I’ll always promise you that.’_

_Myc hummed and melted into Greg’s arms, the older man grinning and nibbling on Myc’s neck._

_‘Feel better?’ he asked._

_Myc nodded. ‘Very much; thank you.’_

_‘No worries.’_

_‘I... I’m sorry.’_

_‘Why?’ Greg asked._

_‘I feel like an idiot... or a child. Wait, an idiot child.’_

_Greg chuckled. ‘Stop it.’_

_‘Being an idiot or a child?’_

_‘Stop being stupid.’_

_‘Idiot, stupid, what’s the difference?’ Myc asked._

_Greg sighed and drew back, making Myc turn. ‘Stop it, Myc. You’re not an idiot, a child,_ or _stupid.’_

_‘You’re the one who called me stupid.’_

_‘Why do you always have to confuse me?’_

_Myc smiled. ‘It’s a gift.’_

_Greg rolled his eyes and pulled Myc in again. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’_

_‘You’ve said that.’_

_‘Yet you don’t believe me.’_

_‘I love you,’ Myc whispered._

_‘I know.’_

_‘The people I love always hurt me.’_

_Greg wondered about that; wondered about Myc’s family and friends and his history. He pressed a kiss to the younger man’s cheek. ‘I won’t hurt you, Myc.’_

_‘Promise?’_

_Greg smiled. ‘I promise.’_

_Myc nodded, seemingly satisfied, and pressed his back into Greg’s front. Both smiled and closed their eyes, content to sleep curled up with each other._


	21. Firsts

‘I still remember the first words you said to me,’ Lestrade said suddenly.

‘Really?’

‘Mm,’ the DI nodded. ‘I bumped into you and you said, ‘Excuse me, sir, could you not spill your drink all over me?’’ Mycroft chuckled. ‘I thought you were so damn cute.’

Mycroft snorted.

‘No, really,’ Lestrade said. ‘I’d been staring at you all night. I couldn’t believe I was attracted to you.’

‘Or I to you,’ Mycroft said with a small smile. ‘First and only time I’ve ever been attracted to a man.’

Lestrade smiled. ‘I asked if I could buy you a drink and you looked so lost, like no one had ever asked before.’

‘No one ever had... but you did.’

‘I did,’ Lestrade nodded. ‘And I bought you another one and another.’

‘Which led to you pushing me against a brick wall,’ Mycroft said and grinned. ‘I’ve never been that scared of exhilarated in my life.’ He paused and closed his eyes. ‘That’s when you said–’

‘‘Are you sure about this?’’ Lestrade mumbled, echoing the words he’d spoken over twenty years ago. ‘‘I’ll stop if you aren’t... if you are I’m never, ever stopping’.’

Mycroft felt a tear escape his eye and wiped it away. ‘I didn’t want you to stop.’

‘So I didn’t.’

‘You did.’

Lestrade sighed. ‘Mycroft–’

‘I know,’ Mycroft cut him off and swallowed. ‘I know.’

Lestrade turned to look at him. Mycroft’s left hand had dropped to draw patterns on the bunk and Lestrade watched his long, thin fingers dance across the vinyl.

‘Do you remember the first time I held your hand in public?’

Mycroft nodded without looking up. ‘It was after the first time we had sex in an alleyway.’ He blushed a little and Lestrade smiled. ‘Two police officers walked around the corner as we were pulling our pants up. You grabbed my hand and shouted–’

‘‘Run!’’

Mycroft smiled. ‘So we did.’

‘I nearly coughed up a lung.’

Mycroft chuckled.

‘Afterwards we just sat in bed together...’ Lestrade began.

‘... and you promised me we’d... we’d always be together,’ Mycroft mumbled. He blinked back fresh tears and his hand curled into a first. ‘But you broke that promise.’

‘Yeah,’ Lestrade nodded. ‘I broke a lot of promises.’

‘You promised no one would ever hurt me,’ Mycroft whispered. ‘You promised I’d never be alone... you... you promised you loved me.’

‘I did... I do...’

Mycroft looked up at him. ‘What?’

‘Mycroft, I’ve always loved you,’ Lestrade said, ‘that hasn’t changed.’

‘But you’re married.’

Lestrade snorted. ‘Married,’ he muttered. ‘My marriage... God, it’s not even my marriage, it’s always been one sided. It was her idea. She planned it, she planned our lives. I was just an outsider looking in. And now... well, now she’s gone.’

‘Gone?’ Mycroft asked.

‘She’s at her sister’s with our son,’ Lestrade said. ‘Ever since Christmas. Sherlock told me she was still cheating on me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I was relieved,’ Lestrade said, ‘can you believe that? Molly Hooper asked why I was at 221B and I said I’d worked everything out with my wife. I was so scared that I’d have to spend another year pretending to love her. Then Sherlock said she was cheating on me with a PE teacher.’

He paused to brush a hand through his hair, Mycroft following the movement. He’d never forget how Greg used to brush his hair back and smile.

‘I was relieved,’ Lestrade repeated. ‘I was so goddamn glad that she was with someone else. I couldn’t handle pretending to be invested in the relationship anymore.’

His heart hammering, Mycroft asked, ‘Why?’

Lestrade turned to look at him, brown eyes soft. ‘Why do you think?’

‘I’ve learned not to listen to my thoughts or feelings when it comes to you.’

‘Really?’

Mycroft nodded. ‘I just... it just hurts.’

Lestrade sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’

Mycroft’s hand was still drawing patterns on the mattress and Lestrade wanted to grab it. But he held himself back; now wasn’t the time to jump Mycroft.

‘When did you first realise?’

‘Hmm?’ Mycroft murmured.

‘When did you first realise,’ Lestrade said slowly, swallowing before continuing, ‘that you loved me?’

Mycroft stretched out, letting go of his legs and leaning back. Lestrade stared at his long, lean body, remembering that he hadn’t touched that soft skin in twenty-three years.

‘Well,’ Mycroft said and fiddled with his shirt, ‘when I realised I was willing to let you fuck me that was an indicator.’

Lestrade snorted and Mycroft smiled. ‘God,’ the DI giggled, ‘everyone thinks you’re this pompous, polite guy. You should hear John talk about you.’

‘John talks about me?’

‘Only when he complains about Sherlock,’ Lestrade smiled, ‘says you two bicker like little girls.’

‘Hmm, I’ll have to do something about that,’ Mycroft mused.

‘I can’t believe I never realised it was you,’ Lestrade said and Mycroft smiled, ‘John says you’re so uptight and posh... I remember you being like that until I got you in the bedroom. Actually, you were pretty nice in the bedroom too.’

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

‘You were all, ‘Oh, I quite like that’,’ Lestrade said, making Mycroft smile, ‘and you always said please and thank you.’

‘Well in my defence, you were very good.’ Lestrade snorted. ‘Hey, at least I said something.’

‘I talked!’ Lestrade defended.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Oh yes, I forgot. Screaming, ‘Fuck me harder, right there!’ is definitely talking.’

Lestrade nudged Mycroft with his shoulder and both men melted into the contact. They drew back quickly and Mycroft felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Lestrade swallowed and tried to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach.

‘I was a mess after I left you,’ he confessed softly after a few minutes of silence. He felt Mycroft’s eyes on him but didn’t look up. ‘I did a lot of drugs until my partner did something like this.’

‘Brandon threw you into a cell?’

Lestrade smiled. Mycroft remembered the name of his old police partner even after all these years. ‘No, he handcuffed me to my bed until I detoxed. Not a very pleasant time but he stayed and helped me clean up.’

‘That was nice of him.’

‘He helped me a lot,’ Lestrade said, ‘especially when I started crying.’

‘Why did you cry?’

‘Mycroft, I’d just left the love of my life,’ Lestrade said. ‘I was devastated.’

‘We keep doing this,’ Mycroft said.

‘Doing what?’

‘We start fighting and then reminisce about the good times... then we fight again.’

Lestrade sighed. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s my fault as much as yours.’

Lestrade leaned back to look at Mycroft better. ‘Why is everything so messed up? Why does everything have to be messed up?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mycroft shrugged.

‘I just wish...’

‘What?’

‘I wish things could be different,’ Lestrade said softly. ‘I wish we could be together.’

Mycroft felt his heart hammer in his chest. Suddenly everything was hot and he shifted, eyes on Lestrade.

‘You... you want to be together?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Of course,’ Lestrade said. ‘I never wanted to break up, Mycroft, but we had to; it was the right thing to do.’

Mycroft swallowed. ‘And now?’

He watched Lestrade shrug, brown eyes down. There were dark bags under his eyes, sweat across his forehead, and stubble on his jaw. He still looked more beautiful than anybody Mycroft had ever seen.

‘We’re older,’ Lestrade said, ‘wiser... well, I’m not wise but I’m assuming you are.’ Mycroft managed a small smile. ‘Everything’s different.’

‘We’re still the same people.’

‘I know.’

‘And we still have a drug problem.’

‘Why are you ruining my moment?’ Mycroft’s smile was proper then. ‘I just think... I think things are different now,’ Lestrade continued. ‘I don’t know about you but I’ve tried to live apart and it’s just not working. I’ve felt better in the last hour than I have in twenty years.’

‘Really?’ Mycroft asked.

Lestrade nodded. ‘Even throwing up and shivering and yelling at you... I still feel better with you here.’

Mycroft swallowed and looked down. Hesitantly he reached across and took Lestrade’s hand in his own. Lestrade shivered at the touch and twined his fingers through Mycroft’s, squeezing tightly.

‘I feel the same.’

‘Really?’

Mycroft nodded. ‘Really.’

Lestrade smiled and they sat in silence, hands together and eyes drifting to each other’s faces every so often. Memories of being together crashed through both their minds; afternoons at the pub, nights in the street, time spent rubbing against each other and swearing into each other’s mouths. They both remembered mornings and breakfasts and showers locked together at the lips.

Neither had felt that in years, in what felt like centuries. Mycroft would never forget the feeling of Greg entering him the first time, of swearing as another man made him feel so good. Lestrade would never be able to forget the small smiles and soft touches Mycroft gave him and only him; no one else had felt that from Mycroft since Greg.

‘Myc,’ Greg sighed, reaching up to touch the politician’s face. He couldn’t resist anymore; he had to touch that soft skin again.

‘Greg,’ Mycroft murmured, hand grabbing Greg’s thigh and stroking.

Mycroft and Greg looked up at the same time, eyes locking together. Suddenly nothing else mattered but each other; the years apart, the abuse they’d put their own bodies through, the hurt, the tears, the drugs... none of it mattered in that moment.

Greg and Mycroft shifted forward at the same time and their lips pressed together.


	22. Kiss Me

_They were walking back to Greg’s flat after dinner when Greg stopped Myc, grabbing the younger man and pulling him close._

_‘What?’ Myc asked. His nose was turning pink from the cold; snow dusting his shoulders and hair. He shifted from foot to foot as he looked at Greg. The man had never looked more beautiful; Greg couldn’t see anything he didn’t like. ‘What is it, Greg? I thought we were going to spend the night on the couch.’_

_‘Kiss me.’_

_Myc raised an eyebrow, aware a man who’d just passed had looked their way at Greg’s words._

_‘What?’_

_‘Kiss me,’ Greg repeated._

_‘Why?’ Myc asked._

_Greg shrugged. ‘You need a reason?’_

_‘Maybe.’_

_Greg smiled and drew Myc closer. ‘Go on, kiss me.’_

_With a small smile, and an eye roll, Myc closed the distance between them and placed a soft, warm kiss against Greg’s lips. Both their bodies tingled at the contact, at the love spread through that small gesture. Greg hummed as Myc’s wet lips pushed against his own and grinned when his boyfriend pulled away._

_‘Happy?’ Myc asked._

_‘Most definitely.’_

_Myc twined their fingers together and squeezed. ‘Can we please get out of the cold now?’_

_Greg chuckled and pulled Myc along, swinging their joined hands. ‘Suppose we can.’_

_‘Good.’_

_‘Good?’_

_‘That kiss wasn’t nearly enough,’ Myc said and looked at Greg. ‘I need a bit more.’_

_Greg giggled and pulled Myc along faster._


	23. What Do You Want?

Their lips crushed together and both groaned. Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft and pulled him in tightly, body’s pressed together. Mycroft tilted his head to fit their lips better together and Greg sighed in bliss, eyes closed tightly.

The kiss could only get more intense and Greg split Mycroft’s lips first. His tongue darted out slowly, lazily, scraping along Mycroft’s bottom lip and making him shiver. His mouth opened wide and Greg’s tongue plunged in, licking at Mycroft’s teeth and tongue.

Greg pushed Mycroft back so he could straddle his lap, Mycroft gasping into his mouth. Greg ignored the noise in favour of continued kissing. He rubbed his hands through Mycroft’s hair, pulling him closer.

Mycroft’s arms wrapped around Greg’s waist and dragged him closer so their chests rested against each other. There was no space between them as they sucked at each other’s lips and tongues.

Greg pulled back for air and they sat staring at each other, Greg running his hand through Mycroft’s hair, Mycroft’s hands strong on Greg’s back.

‘What do you want, Mycroft?’

‘You,’ the politician said.

‘No, I mean... with us.’ Mycroft raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you... do you want a relationship? Or just sex? Because I can’t handle that, Myc, I can’t–’

He was cut off when Mycroft kissed him softly, pulling their bodies together again. They broke apart and Mycroft said, ‘I want a relationship, Greg. I want breakfasts and dinners and just _you._ If you can’t do that we should stop now.’

‘You’re an idiot,’ Greg said.

‘Why?’

Greg smiled and moved his hands to cup Mycroft’s face. ‘I can’t handle just sex, Myc. Don’t get me wrong, the sex is fantastic, but... I want you all to myself every day.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Greg nodded.

‘Good,’ Mycroft murmured.

‘Good?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘Yes, good. I want you to be my boyfriend and I want us to live together. I want to marry you and have kids and grow old with you. I never, ever want to be apart from you again.’

‘Can we settle for the ‘boyfriends’ thing first?’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Yes.’

‘And maybe the moving in thing too.’

Mycroft’s eyes lit up. ‘Really?’

‘I’ve never been to your place,’ Greg said, trailing his thumb along Mycroft’s lips.

‘I’ve moved since we were last together.’

‘I don’t know that, do I? I never went to your old place.’ He paused. ‘My marriage is over... I’m supposed to be finding a new place.’

‘Hmm,’ Mycroft murmured, leaning up to kiss Greg’s jaw. ‘I have a lot of room.’

‘Do you now?’

‘My bed is big.’

Greg shivered and swallowed. ‘I’ll... I’ll have to see it sometime.’

‘Maybe when we’re let out of here.’

‘Mm... yeah...’ Greg murmured.

Their lips connected again and both men melted into it. Mycroft wanted to pull Greg down so they could get closer and closer but knew the door would open as soon as one of them was without a shirt. He was more than fine kissing Greg, though; the man’s lips were so beautiful.

‘Myc?’

‘Mm?’ the politician murmured.

Greg pulled back and Mycroft whined. With a small smile, Greg pressed a quick kiss to Mycroft’s lips before talking.

‘Myc, we have to stop the drugs.’ Mycroft looked up at him carefully. ‘I can’t get back with you if one or both of us is still taking coke. It’s the whole reason I broke up with you and I don’t want to do that again; I can’t handle it.’

Mycroft nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Really?’

‘I’ve been clean two years, Greg.’

‘Except tonight.’

Mycroft sighed. ‘That was because I saw you and I... I didn’t handle it well.’

‘No, me either.’

‘But if we’re together I won’t want to; I don’t need to,’ Mycroft said. ‘If I have you I don’t need the drugs, or the alcohol or any of that. I just need _you_.’

‘Really?’

Mycroft smiled and shifted beneath Greg so his half-hard cock pressed into the DI’s arse. Greg giggled as Mycroft said, ‘Yes, Greg. Really.’

‘Good,’ Greg said and kissed Mycroft again.

**\--**

 

_‘What do you want, Greg?’ Myc asked, thoroughly blissed out._

_‘You,’ Greg murmured, yawning. He had his head resting against Myc’s chest and could hear and feel the man breathing._

_‘Is that all?’ Myc asked, fingers trailing through the officer’s hair. The sheets beneath him were wet but he couldn’t bring himself to care._

_‘That’s all I need,’ Greg replied, wiping at his nose._

_Myc smiled. ‘Good; all_ I _need is_ you _.’_

_‘Yeah?’_

_‘Yeah,’ Myc nodded._

_Greg grinned, shifting to look at his boyfriend properly. What passed between them didn’t really need words but sometimes they both had to hear it; sometimes they had to be reminded that the other cared._

_‘Good.’_

_‘Mm,’ Myc murmured and closed his eyes, hand warm and reassuring on Greg’s arm._

_Greg smiled._


	24. If You Hurt Him

Mycroft and Greg exchanged soft, slow kisses, neither wanting to rush the happiest moment they’d felt in years. It wasn’t as though either of them had anywhere to be so they were more than content to sit against each other, tongues coming out to wrap around each other.

‘God, I’ve missed this,’ Greg moaned as Mycroft thrust himself up.

‘Me too,’ Mycroft said. ‘I don’t even want to think about the time we spent apart.’

‘Are we really doing this?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft pulled back. ‘What?’

‘I just...’ Greg said slowly, eyes cast down, ‘... I’m not sure this is real. What if I’m dreaming and tomorrow I wake up in bed without you?’

‘That won’t happen.’

‘It won’t?’

‘Well, unless I’m called away for work I’m most definitely not getting out of bed.’

Greg smiled. ‘Promise?’

‘I promise, Greg,’ Mycroft said and kissed him again. ‘And even if work calls I’m telling them to fuck off.’

Greg chuckled. ‘You’d better.’

‘Or what?’

‘Maybe I’ll withhold sex.’

Mycroft snorted. ‘Greg, that’s never worked with me.’

‘It worked that one time.’

‘When?’ Mycroft asked.

‘That time you drank my last beer,’ Greg said, ‘we didn’t have sex for a week.’

‘I was away on business.’

‘So? We still didn’t have sex.’

‘How could we? I was in another country.’

‘I still withheld sex.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘So what you’re saying is you’re going to withhold sex... right now... when we’ve only just got back together.’ He thrust himself up again, erection pushing into Greg.

The DI groaned and mumbled, ‘M’kay... maybe... maybe not...’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘Shut up,’ Greg said and forced their lips together in a hard kiss.

The door behind them opened and they broke apart quickly. They couldn’t exactly lie about what they were doing; Greg was still sitting on Mycroft’s lap. Both men blushed as Sherlock, John and Donovan entered.

‘God, what the hell kind of drugs did you two take?’ Sally demanded.

Greg sighed as Sherlock said, ‘You two have made up then?’ Mycroft glared at him and Sherlock smiled.

Greg pulled himself from Mycroft’s lap and rearranged his clothes.

‘So...’ Sherlock said slowly, folding his arms and smirking. ‘You two are sober?’

‘Yes, Sherlock, and we thank you,’ Mycroft grumbled, combing his hair back with his fingers.

‘I see,’ Sherlock said softly.

There was silence as Mycroft got up to stand beside Greg. He badly wanted to reach out and grab the DI’s hand but wasn’t sure how they were supposed to act in public. He’d gone two decades being alone before suddenly Greg was there again, in the flesh. And they were _together_... Mycroft really didn’t know what to do with himself.

‘Are we allowed to go?’ Greg asked.

‘That depends if Sergeant Donovan is going to press charges,’ Sherlock said and everyone looked at her.

She held up her hands. ‘Hey, I spent the night at home in front of the telly, I dunno what you lot were doing.’

Greg smiled. ‘Thanks, Sally.’

Sally shrugged. ‘Hey, we’ve all fallen on hard times. As long as this doesn’t happen again...’ she trailed off before stepping out of the cell and leaving the four men alone.

‘Are you two alright?’ John asked.

‘Yes,’ Greg said and Mycroft nodded.

‘Headaches?’ John asked. ‘Any nausea, shakes, sweating?’

‘No, not really,’ Greg said. ‘My stomach hurts a little.’

‘Because you haven’t eaten in two days,’ Sherlock butted in.

Greg scowled at him as John raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Gregory Lestrade, you go home now and have something to eat,’ John ordered.

‘Actually, he’s coming back to my flat,’ Mycroft said. Sherlock and John looked at him. ‘What?’

‘One day you’re going to have to fill me in,’ John said. ‘This whole thing is giving me a headache.’

‘I’ll tell you in Mycroft’s car,’ Sherlock said and stepped from the cell.

‘My car?’ Mycroft asked as he, Greg and John followed. ‘Why my car?’

‘I’m coming to yours.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I want to check for drugs,’ Sherlock said.

Mycroft scowled as they walked through Scotland Yard. ‘Sherlock, you don’t need to do that.’

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not leaving two drug addicts in a flat where there may be drugs,’ Sherlock said.

‘Sherlock, there aren’t any drugs.’ Sherlock snorted as they headed outside. ‘Honestly, brother, there isn’t. I only had the bag and bottles you found on my coffee table; I didn’t have time to purchase any more.’

Sherlock turned to face Mycroft as his brother pulled out a cigarette packet. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke above his head. Greg nicked one and felt a shudder pass through his body as their fingers touched.

Sherlock’s eyes searched Mycroft’s face, looking for any sign that he was lying. ‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘you’re telling the truth.’

Mycroft sighed, puffing on his smoke. ‘I am, really. Greg and I have both agreed that we’re going to stay clean this time.’

Sherlock looked at the DI. ‘We are,’ Greg said.

‘Are you two back together?’ Sherlock asked. Greg nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘You... you’re okay with it?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Of course,’ Sherlock said. He pulled Mycroft’s BlackBerry from his pocket and handed it across. ‘Call your driver while I talk to Lestrade.’

‘Talk to him?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Yes,’ Sherlock said and grabbed the DI, dragging him away from his brother and John.

‘Sherlock, what the hell?’

‘Are you really going to stop taking drugs?’ Sherlock demanded.

‘Yes,’ Greg nodded and blew smoke above his head. ‘We talked about it and... I don’t like taking them, Sherlock. I just... I missed him.’

‘I understand that,’ Sherlock said, ‘so you two are together again?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see,’ Sherlock muttered, eyes roaming over the DI. ‘Lestrade, I feel I have to say this even though I don’t particularly want to. My brother was devastated when you left the first time. It took me three days to find out why he was so upset. I could see he had a drug habit, of course, and that he’d been sleeping with a man. I didn’t know he loved you until he told me.

‘Our parents forced him to stay in hospital even after he detoxed. They thought it was the drugs or some type of brainwashing that had him saying he loved another man. I could tell he meant it though and he was so angry and upset; I’ve never seen him like that.’

Greg wanted Sherlock to shut up; he didn’t want to hear about Mycroft’s breakdown... it made his entire body hurt.

‘My brother has never been as depressed as he was in those few months, Lestrade,’ Sherlock continued, not caring that Greg was uncomfortable. ‘I am warning you now; if you hurt my brother I will certainly prove Sally right. I will become a psychopath and I will hunt you down, kill you, and bury your remains under Scotland Yard. Do I make myself clear?’

Greg swallowed and nodded.

‘Good,’ Sherlock grinned, showing way too much teeth. ‘Make sure you don’t hurt him, Gregory, or I won’t be responsible for my actions. I might just have John save you so I can kill you again.’

‘I get it, Sherlock.’

Sherlock smiled again. ‘So,’ he said, ‘do you really think you and my brother can work everything out?’

‘I hope so,’ Greg said. ‘I really do love him, Sherlock, and I’ll try my hardest to make him happy. I never wanted to break up with him but I–’

‘Had to,’ Sherlock cut him off. ‘Yes, I understand. I remember the way Mycroft looked back then; too much drugs and alcohol. He got healthier after you two broke up but not happier.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Greg said, fidgeting with his cigarette, ‘really, I am.’

‘I know,’ Sherlock nodded. ‘I am not against this relationship, Lestrade. While I may not like my brother I do love him and I want him to be happy as long as it doesn’t annoy me. Him dating you shouldn’t annoy me unless you start dressing alike.’

‘Don’t worry; I’m not gonna start wearing three-piece suits.’

‘I like three-piece suits.’

Mycroft had sneaked up behind them and Greg jumped. ‘Er, me too,’ Greg back-tracked quickly. ‘They’re nice and... erm... expensive and... uh...’

Mycroft chuckled and stepped so he was right beside Greg. ‘It’s okay, Greg.’

‘I’m an idiot,’ Greg sighed.

‘Yes you are,’ Sherlock interjected. Mycroft shot him a glare as his car drew up. ‘Well, I’m sure you two have a lot to do,’ Sherlock said and opened the door. ‘Go on.’

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t move. ‘Why are you so cheery, brother?’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Well,’ Mycroft said, ‘you found me in my flat high and locked me in a cell with my ex-boyfriend whom you also found high and forced us together despite the fact we hadn’t seen each other in twenty years and parted on less than amicable terms.’

Sherlock just smiled and gestured at the car.

‘What are you up to?’ Mycroft demanded, flicking his cigarette away.

‘Nothing,’ Sherlock said, ‘can’t I just be happy for my brother and my friend?’

‘Normal people would be happy, Sherlock,’ Mycroft said, ‘but you are not normal.’

‘That hurts, brother,’ Sherlock said, ‘now are you going to get in the car or not?’

Still scowling, Mycroft grabbed Greg’s hand (the DI blushed and felt heat spread from their joined fingers) and dragged him into the car. Greg dropped his cigarette and climbed in, turning to see that Mycroft was keeping his eyes on Sherlock, even when the door was shut.

‘What’s wrong?’ Greg asked, squeezing Mycroft’s hand. His heart fluttered when he realised he could do this all the time; he’d never have to leave Mycroft.

‘My brother is acting strangely.’

‘Maybe he just cares about you.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I know Sherlock cares about me, Greg; he just has a strange way of showing it. But I was expecting more shouting after tonight’s events.’

‘He did threaten to kill me if I hurt you.’

‘Really?’

‘Mm,’ Greg nodded, ‘said he’d murder me and hide my remains under Scotland Yard. I don’t really know how he’d do it but I’m sure Sherlock could find a way. Oh, he was also gonna include John; something about John reviving me so Sherlock could kill me again.’

‘John _has_ killed for my brother before,’ Mycroft said.

Greg chuckled. ‘He gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’.’

They lapsed into companionable silence, both just eyeing each other as the car drove. Neither could quite believe they were there, together. It was a dream come true for both of them.

Greg moved over, snuggling into Mycroft’s side. Mycroft sighed and wrapped an arm around Greg’s shoulders.

‘What?’ the DI murmured.

‘I’m happy,’ Mycroft answered. ‘You’re here, with me. Everything just seems...’

‘Better?’ Greg offered and Mycroft nodded.

‘Our pasts don’t matter now; our short-comings, our jobs, none of that.’

‘It does matter, Myc,’ Greg said and shifted to look up. ‘I want to know all that stuff.’

‘You do?’

Greg nodded. ‘We never used to talk or share stories about our day. I want that now; I want to hear about boring meetings and where you’re going and who you meet.’

‘I can’t tell you all the details, Gregory,’ Mycroft said. ‘My work is... secretive.’

‘I know that, Mycroft, but you can at least share a few things, right?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Good,’ Greg said.

‘As long as you share stories about your day,’ Mycroft said and Greg smiled. ‘I want to hear about criminals and bad coffee and how unbelievably annoying my little brother is.’

‘It’s a promise,’ Greg said, ‘one that I won’t break. I promise.’

‘You promise not to break your promise?’ Greg nudged him and Mycroft chuckled.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t know you were Sherlock’s brother.’

‘I never gave you my last name,’ Mycroft said.

‘You didn’t give me your first name either. I thought it was short for Michael.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘You’re the only person who has ever called me Myc.’

‘Really?’

The politician nodded and began threading his fingers through Greg’s hair, the DI sighing at the contact. ‘I don’t enjoy nicknames but I liked you calling me Myc. It was nice; our own special thing.’

‘Well, _Myc_ ,’ Greg said and the taller man chuckled, ‘I’m gonna call you that as often as I can.’

‘I’d like that very much, Greg.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ Mycroft smiled.

‘Good,’ Greg said and planted a soft kiss against Mycroft’s lips. ‘I’ll never take another kiss for granted.’

‘No,’ Mycroft agreed, ‘me either.’

‘Shit!’ Greg said suddenly, breaking the kiss.

‘What?’ Mycroft asked as Greg patted down his pockets.

‘You know how Sherlock was acting weird?’ Mycroft nodded. ‘He stole my warrant card!’

Mycroft paused before bursting into a fit of giggles.

‘Not funny,’ Greg scowled.

‘It is.’

‘Not.’

‘It most definitely is.’

Greg shut him up with a kiss.

‘Hmm,’ Mycroft murmured, pulling back an inch to stare into Greg’s eyes. ‘Okay, it’s not funny.’

Greg grinned and kissed him again.


	25. Addicted

Everything was different this time around. Mycroft led Greg up to his flat and made sure the DI got a tour. He spoke about his furniture, his books, his TV and windows and wallpaper and everything. The entire time he had his eyes on Greg, watching his reaction.

Greg loved it all; it was all so... Mycroft. The first time they’d dated everything had been so fast and intense and it had all happened at bars and restaurants and Greg’s flat. They went slowly this time, hands joined as Mycroft led his boyfriend through his flat.

Finally they fell to sit on the very expensive couch, Mycroft flicking the TV on. They ignored it in favour of each other, Mycroft pulling himself onto Greg’s lap. The kissed softly and slowly, enjoying each other and the fact that finally, after twenty plus years, they were together again.

‘You really haven’t dated anyone since me?’ Greg asked after a good hour of making out.

‘I honestly haven’t,’ Mycroft said.

‘Why?’

Mycroft sighed and said, ‘I couldn’t. I just... I dated women before I met you but it was all so different after you left. I never met anyone I connected with.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It is.’

‘It’s my fault too,’ Mycroft said.

‘Ha, so it _is_ my fault.’

Mycroft tutted. ‘Gregory, please.’ Greg smiled. ‘So...’ he said slowly, ‘you got married.’

‘Yeah.’

‘How long?’

‘Three years,’ Greg said. ‘Sharon was nice, _is_ nice, but... she’s not you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.’

‘And you have children?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said, ‘a son; Luke, or Lucas. I think he’d like you.’

‘I doubt it, Greg. Children don’t like me.’

‘Spend a lot of time with children, do you?’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘You know what I mean. Grown humans tend not to like me so I figure younger versions will also take an aversion.’

‘Luke’s two, Myc. He likes shiny things and bowls.’

‘Bowls?’

‘I dunno, he just likes ’em. Screams bloody murder if you put his food on a plate but a bowl he has no problem with.’

‘So he’d go crazy for a shiny bowl?’

‘Shut up.’

Mycroft smiled and kissed Greg quickly. ‘Are you and Sharon getting a divorce?’

‘No, I’m planning on keeping both of you,’ Greg said, Mycroft tutting. ‘You can cook and she can rub my feet.’

‘Gregory...’

‘Yeah, Myc, we’re getting a divorce. She’s at her sister’s until I find a place to live.’

‘You’ve already found one,’ Mycroft said and gestured around.

‘Have I now?’

‘Yes, you have.’

‘What about Luke?’

‘What about him?’

‘You’ll be okay having him here? I mean, Sharon will get custody because of my job but I’m hoping I can have him weekends... you’d be okay with Luke staying over?’

‘Of course, Greg. I’ll fill the guest room with bowls just for him.’

Greg snorted. ‘And you don’t mind me being around either?’

‘Of course not.’

‘I’m messy.’

‘I know.’

‘I leave the milk out.’

‘That’s fine, Greg.’

‘I also leave out orange juice... and soft drinks, water, butter, cheese, ice cream–’

‘What do you use your fridge for?’

Greg smiled. ‘Decoration.’

Mycroft shook his head before kissing Greg again. ‘I don’t mind, Greg, really. Bring your son and all your stuff and be messy. Leave all the food out, I really don’t care.’

‘You will after I turn the living room into a dump.’

‘You’re forgetting I grew up with Sherlock. Did you know he threw a sledgehammer through our bay windows when he was nine? There was plaster and glass everywhere.’

Greg pulled back to look at his boyfriend. ‘He... how the hell did he manage that?’

‘I honestly don’t know but I’m inclined to blame a soft drink company.’

‘Why’d he throw a sledgehammer?’

Mycroft shrugged. ‘He never explained why. Our parents locked him in his room for a week which didn’t really help. He destroyed his bed and wardrobe.’

Greg snorted. ‘And you never destroyed anything?’

‘Other than Sherlock’s stuff when he was annoying me? No.’

Greg grinned and pulled Mycroft in for more kissing, their lips already swollen but neither wanting to stop. After ten minutes Greg flicked off the TV and said, ‘I’d really like to see your bedroom again.’

Mycroft bit his lip and looked away.

‘Myc? What’s wrong?’ Mycroft didn’t answer. ‘We can just sleep if you don’t want to have sex, I don’t mind.’

‘No,’ Mycroft said quickly, ‘I want to have sex, Greg, but...’

‘But what?’ Greg asked. ‘I know you haven’t had sex in... God, twenty-three years, wow.’

Mycroft scowled and Greg smiled.

‘Sorry, sorry. Well I haven’t had sex with a man since you but I’m sure it hasn’t changed. I don’t think sex can change that much. Unless you’re suddenly into leather and whips. Do you want me to whip you?’

‘Greg.’

‘Or dig my nails into your arse?’

‘Gregory.’

‘It’s a nice arse, Myc, I really don’t want to ruin it.’

‘It’s nothing like that,’ Mycroft said.

‘What is it?’ Still Mycroft didn’t answer. ‘Myc, how am I supposed to help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?’

Mycroft sighed and looked down, playing with the edge of Greg’s shirt. ‘I don’t have anything.’

‘Anything...?’

‘Condoms,’ Mycroft said and bit his lip, ‘or lubricant.’

‘Oh,’ Greg said. ‘No worries, we’ll just go buy some.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said, ‘it doesn’t matter.’ He paused before saying, ‘I’m clean, Myc.’

‘And?’

‘Well, if you are too then we don’t have to use a condom.’

‘Oh,’ Mycroft said, memories of Greg taking him without protection filling his head. There had been a lot of those moments. ‘I see.’

Greg smiled and pulled Mycroft to his feet, dragging the taller man to the bedroom.

‘What about lubrication?’

‘You’ll see,’ Greg said.

‘Will I?’

Greg smiled and pushed Mycroft onto his bed. He bent down to pull Mycroft’s shoes and socks free before moving up slowly to kiss him. Mycroft groaned and pulled Greg forward, flopping back onto the bed and taking Greg with him.

He immediately started thrusting himself up, rutting his groin against Greg’s and making soft noises in the back of his throat.

‘We have all night, Myc.’

‘I haven’t had sex in twenty years,’ Mycroft reminded him.

Greg kicked his shoes off and started on Mycroft’s shirt, pulling the buttons free. He pushed it off Mycroft’s shoulders and attacked his neck, the politician groaning. Mycroft’s fingers twisted in Greg’s hair as the DI moved down to lick his nipples, loving the soft chest hair he found. He’d missed Mycroft’s body so much.

He moved a hand to rub Mycroft through his trousers, the taller man immediately thrusting into the touch. Mycroft began groaning loudly and pulling at Greg’s hair.

‘Easy, Myc,’ Greg mumbled against his skin, tongue circling Mycroft’s bellybutton.

‘My... apologies,’ Mycroft swallowed, eyes fluttering shut.

Greg giggled. ‘There’s that politeness I love.’

‘Shut up,’ Mycroft moaned.

‘Hmm, you want me to shut up,’ Greg mumbled and unbuckled Mycroft’s belt. His fingers were very skilful as they unbuttoned and unzipped Mycroft’s trousers, pulling them completely clear. Mycroft watched with wide eyes as Greg ripped his underwear down, exposing his hard and throbbing cock. ‘I need something in my mouth to shut me up,’ Greg said and moved.

Before Mycroft could say anything Greg had licked at the head of his cock and taken him completely. Mycroft moaned and tried not to push up into his boyfriend’s mouth but failed miserably. He began thrusting slowly, lifting his hips from the bed and driving his cock deeper into Greg’s mouth.

Greg swirled his tongue around the head, licking pre-come away before hollowing his cheeks. Mycroft’s moans were getting louder, eyes squeezing shut and his hands fisting in the sheets. He hadn’t felt this good in years; the pleasure seeping through his body was sparking every nerve, fire dancing across his skin.

Greg was making obscene sucking noises which did little to calm Mycroft down. He forced his eyes open so he could watch Greg, the DI bobbing up and down. Mycroft had never thought this would happen again; had never thought he’d have Greg causing him this amount of pleasure.

The fun wasn’t entirely one-sided. Greg hadn’t given a man a blow job since the last time he and Mycroft were together. His boyfriend’s hot, heavy shaft was sliding along his tongue so nicely, his skin beautifully warm and his pre-come trickling down Greg’s throat. Greg had forgotten just how delicious Mycroft tasted; just how beautiful Mycroft looked all sweaty and panting, teeth biting into his lips and arms shaking from twisting the sheets.

Suddenly Mycroft moaned and his heels dug into the mattress. Greg looked up just in time to see a look of absolute release cross Mycroft’s face before the politician was coming, hot liquid shooting down Greg’s throat.

Greg sucked and licked Mycroft clean as the taller man moaned, mouth open wide and eyes shut tightly as pleasure rolled across his body. He fell back onto the bed heavily and slipped from Greg’s mouth with a wet noise, leaving the DI crouched over him. Greg wiped his lips and crawled up the bed to lie beside Mycroft.

‘Really? You lasted all of two minutes.’

‘I... s-sorry,’ Mycroft mumbled, wiping at his sweaty face.

‘No worries.’

‘I haven’t... come... in a... while.’

‘Don’t you masturbate?’ Greg asked.

What little blood remained in his top half rushed to Mycroft’s face. Greg smiled as he said, ‘Erm... no, not in a while.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll have to change that, Myc.’

‘Why?’

Greg smiled and kissed Mycroft softly, the politician tasting himself on Greg’s lips. ‘Can’t have you coming all the time before I get a chance to fuck you.’

Mycroft rolled his eyes and grabbed Greg by the back of the head, forcing their lips together in a hard, wet kiss. The added taste of himself and cigarettes had Mycroft panting, his tongue forcing itself deeper and deeper into Greg’s mouth.

Greg moaned and rolled onto his back, pulling Mycroft atop. The politician rubbed himself against Greg’s still clothed body, making his older lover moan and dig his fingers into Mycroft’s hips.

‘I need you,’ Greg murmured.

‘Give us a minute,’ Mycroft muttered.

Greg smiled. ‘You’ve gone and lost your charming vocabulary.’

‘Shut up now or I’ll go to sleep.’

‘Oh, you got what you want so you’re just gonna leave me?’

Mycroft shifted off his boyfriend and rolled over, curling his knees up to his chest. Greg smiled and sat up to look over Mycroft’s naked back, eyes lingering on his lower half.

‘I quite like this view.’

Mycroft snorted. ‘I’ll leave the room.’

‘Excellent; I’ll watch.’ Mycroft rolled back over to face Greg, who whined. ‘No, I thought you were leaving. Go on, I’ve been bad; leave. I want a nice view of your arse.’

‘You’re weird.’

‘And?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘And nothing.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Greg said and grabbed Mycroft by the hip. He forced their crotches together and pushed softly as they kissed, tongues rubbing against each other. Mycroft moaned into his mouth and Greg felt the politician growing harder and harder against his thigh. ‘Already?’

‘Twenty years, Gregory.’

‘Twenty-three,’ Greg corrected.

‘Are you going to fuck me or do I have to do it myself?’

Greg pulled back, raising an eyebrow. ‘Yourself?’

‘Did you not understand the question or do you want me to fuck myself?’

Greg smiled. ‘Er, bit of both.’

Mycroft said, slowly, ‘Are you, dear Gregory, going to stick your fabulous cock in my arse,’ Greg giggled, ‘ _or_ am I going to use my fingers to get myself off for the second time tonight?’

‘Ah, there’s that vocabulary,’ Greg chuckled and grabbed Mycroft’s hand.

‘What are you doing?’ Mycroft asked.

Rather than answer, Greg parted Mycroft fingers and inserted his index finger into his mouth, sucking back loudly and coating his skin in saliva. Mycroft moaned and watched as Greg bobbed back and forth on his finger, teeth scraping against the pad and lips squeezing his knuckle.

‘Greg... God...’ Mycroft mumbled.

Greg took his middle finger into his mouth, now sucking both. His tongue was hot and wet, swirling around Mycroft’s nails and making the politician shiver. He took another finger in, making very rude noises as his eyes locked onto Mycroft’s.

‘I don’t... understand...’ Mycroft managed.

Greg sucked back once more before removing Mycroft’s fingers to lick at his finger tips. ‘So...’ he said, holding up Mycroft’s hand to inspect his work. ‘Are you going to fuck yourself or what?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘That depends,’ he said, ‘are you going to stick your cock in my arse?’

‘After you fuck yourself I might.’

With a grin, Mycroft shifted onto his legs and dropped his hand. Greg bit his lip as Mycroft prodded at his own entrance, closing his eyes as he pushed one finger in.

‘Oh God,’ he moaned.

‘Are you tight?’ Greg asked.

‘I haven’t been fucked in twenty years, what do you think?’ Mycroft asked. He bit his lip as he fucked himself slowly, pushing in deeper and deeper.

‘How does it feel?’ Greg asked, mouth watering as he watched the show.

‘So... good...’ Mycroft mumbled.

‘Yeah?’ Greg asked and his boyfriend nodded. ‘Can you fit another finger?’

Mycroft tutted and pushed his middle finger in to join the first, moaning even louder. Greg moved across the bed to bend down and watch. He groaned as he watched two of Mycroft’s fingers disappear into his arse, the politician moving up and down on himself.

‘Add another,’ Greg whispered.

Mycroft did and Greg put a hand on his back, rubbing the soft, sweaty skin as Mycroft continued to moan.

‘Touch your prostate,’ Greg said.

Mycroft did and nearly jumped off himself, swearing loudly and shaking.

‘Again.’

Mycroft continued to fuck himself as Greg asked him to do different things; move faster, touch his prostate, stretch himself out more. Soon Mycroft was panting and sweating, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand and biting his lips.

‘Greg... please,’ he begged.

Greg pushed Mycroft forward so he was on his hands and knees. He shoved two fingers into Mycroft’s mouth and the politician sucked on them wetly, swirling his tongue around Greg’s calloused digits.

Mycroft was tighter than Greg remembered, his muscles squeezing around Greg’s fingers as he pushed two in.

‘Fuck, Myc,’ the DI groaned, scissoring his fingers as he thrust them in and out of his boyfriend’s entrance.

Mycroft dropped his head and closed his eyes as he forced himself back, burying Greg’s fingers in deeper and deeper. When Greg touched his prostate he whimpered.

‘Myc?’ Greg said.

‘Please, Greg, I need you,’ Mycroft gasped, voice wobbling. ‘Please, please, _please_.’

Greg couldn’t wait any longer and removed his fingers. He stepped off the bed to shed his clothes, Mycroft turning to watch his shirt and trousers fall to the floor.

When Greg climbed back onto the bed he looked down at his aching cock, pre-come oozing from the slit. ‘I need lube,’ he said.

Mycroft wasted no time in wrapping his lips around Greg’s cock, sucking back hard and sliding his fingers down the shaft. Greg groaned and pumped into Mycroft’s mouth a few times, pulling at his own hair to make sure he didn’t get too aroused.

‘On your back,’ Greg demanded.

Mycroft pulled himself from Greg’s cock and shifted up the bed, head hitting his luxurious pillows. He spread his legs and took his cock in one hand, stroking lightly and looking up at Greg.

His eyes were the brightest blue, bigger than Greg remembered. He was so beautiful and just lying there, just for _Greg._ The DI considered himself the luckiest man in the world; he’d never thought he’d see this again.

He pushed himself between Mycroft’s legs and forced their lips together, sucking back on Mycroft’s tongue.

‘I love you so much,’ he said, ‘I can’t believe we wasted twenty years apart.’

‘You have a beautiful son, Greg,’ Mycroft whispered. ‘Never apologise for him.’

‘I won’t,’ Greg said, ‘I love him, I love _you_.’

‘Love you too,’ Mycroft mumbled against his lips. ‘Greg, please.’

Greg was starting to think _please_ was Mycroft’s new favourite word. He looked down to see what he was doing, clasping his cock in one hand and moving it to Mycroft’s puckered entrance. Mycroft’s hands came up to rest on Greg’s shoulders and he squeezed tightly to show Greg he was ready.

With a smile, Greg pushed in. Mycroft shouted and wrapped his legs around Greg’s waist, hauling the DI deeper in. Greg moaned and stopped when he was fully encased in Mycroft’s heat, fighting hard to not come right there and then.

‘God, Greg, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the kisses and the sex and you and fuck, please move.’

Greg pulled out before pushing back in, Mycroft’s muscles contracting around him. The politician’s heels dug into Greg’s hips and set up a punishing rhythm, Mycroft using his legs to pull and push Greg back.

‘Fuck, Myc, calm down,’ Greg grunted, not sure how long he’d be able to keep going if Mycroft continued this.

‘Sorry, sorry, I can’t... harder!’

Greg tried his best, pushing in and grabbing Mycroft’s cock. A small part of his brain that wasn’t focused on watching Mycroft whimper and twist beneath him wanted the taller man to come right there and then so he could enjoy his own release. But he wanted this to last, it had been too long.

‘Myc... please... I can’t... keep going,’ Greg whimpered.

Mycroft’s eyes snapped open, his intelligent blue eyes raking over Greg’s face. Suddenly he was pushing Greg into a sitting position and mounting him, Greg’s cock never leaving him completely.

‘Myc?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mycroft whispered and kissed Greg fiercely, teeth biting hard on Greg’s bottom lip. ‘I’m so far up myself it’s embarrassing.’

‘I’m pretty far up you,’ Greg grunted.

Mycroft grinned and kissed Greg again. ‘Greg, I want you to come. Remember all those times you fucked me?’ Greg moaned, eyes flickering shut. ‘I want to hear you scream my name as you fuck me.’

‘Oh God.’

One of Mycroft’s hands wrapped around Greg’s to pump his own cock in time with Greg’s thrusts.

‘Remember the first time? I was so tight, you were so big.’

‘M-Mycroft.’

‘You’re the only man who’s ever fucked me; you’re the only man I want to fuck me.’

‘Mmf.’

‘Fuck me hard, Greg. Please.’

Greg’s thrusts got harder and deeper and Mycroft lost his train of thought. White hot pleasure was slipping through both their bodies as skin slapped against skin, the room filled with moans and grunts.

‘G-Greg,’ Mycroft groaned, lips hot and hard against the DI’s as his older lover hit his prostate. ‘Fuck... right... there... _oh_!’

Mycroft came all over their stomachs and hands, moaning and pushing Greg onto his back. His muscles tightened around Greg’s cock and Mycroft continued to pull himself up and down as he came.

Greg pushed himself up and felt his balls tighten, digging his nails into Mycroft’s hips as, finally, he came. He buried himself deeply into his boyfriend as a fierce animal pleasure was ripped from his body, every muscle twisting violently as he shot come into Mycroft.

‘MYC!’ he shouted loudly, Mycroft wincing as the noise assaulted his ears. Their lips crashed together and they panted loudly as their bodies stilled, Mycroft falling to press their torsos together.

Everything was hot and wet and so fucking good, both men forgot everything for a few minutes. When Greg opened his eyes Mycroft was still atop him, panting heavily, his body trembling.

‘You okay?’ Greg murmured. Mycroft nodded and managed to roll off, wincing loudly as Greg slipped from his arse. ‘Sorry.’

‘S’fine,’ Mycroft murmured, feeling Greg’s seed leak down his inner thighs. God how he’d missed feeling that full.

‘Myc, you’re trembling.’

‘Mm.’

‘Are you sure you’re alright? You haven’t been fucked in twenty years and we weren’t really gentle.’

‘I’m... I’m fine,’ Mycroft said and blinked, eyes narrowed against the light. ‘Turn off the light.’

Greg managed to get to his feet and flick the light off. He stumbled to the en-suite bathroom and grabbed a towel, wetting it.

Mycroft was in the same position, still trying to catch his breath. He winced when Greg cleaned him, dabbing at his arse softly.

‘You okay?’

‘I told you, I’m fine.’

Greg snorted. ‘No you’re not. I’m too much for you.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I’ve taken your cock plenty of times, Gregory.’

‘Maybe I got bigger.’

Mycroft chuckled and took the towel, throwing it across the room. ‘Bed.’

He watched as Greg drew back the covers, making him move so they could both slip under. Mycroft sighed in content and drew Greg in, wrapping his body around the DI’s tightly.

‘Never leave.’

‘I won’t,’ Greg promised.

‘Mm,’ Mycroft murmured and placed soft kisses along his boyfriend’s neck.

They kissed softly and slowly for hours or days or weeks, neither man was counting. Nothing else mattered, not then, just them; twenty-three long years had passed since their last time together and both men were hating the time spent apart.

But that was different now; both would make sure it was different. There wouldn’t be only quick rendezvous in alleyways behind pubs. They wouldn’t skip dinner in favour of snorting coke and getting drunk. They’d sit down with each other and just kiss, just enjoy the other’s company. Mycroft would tell Greg what he could about his day without revealing too many secrets and Greg would prattle on about Mycroft’s annoying little brother.

They had been happy before, happier than they ever had been, but both had been broken and fragile. They were still broken, still fragile, but this time would be different. Mycroft and Greg would stay clean and sober for each other and for Greg’s son; for Sherlock and John too, for their colleagues and families and everybody.

This time things _would_ be different. Mycroft and Greg would be properly happy. And they would never, ever, take each other for granted. Fighting and throwing punches and saying foul words wouldn’t matter, not at the end of the day. They would still fall into bed with each other, hold each other, _be there_ for each other.

‘I’m addicted to you, Myc,’ Greg murmured, turning to kiss him softly. ‘You’re better than any drug.’

‘Is that so?’ Mycroft said, cupping Greg’s cheek and kissing him harder.

‘Yup,’ Greg said. ‘It’s an addiction I don’t want to break.’

‘Good, I don’t want to lose you.’

‘Good?’ Greg asked

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said.

‘Good.’

Mycroft tutted. ‘Stop saying good.’

‘Sorry,’ Greg mumbled.

‘Good.’

Greg giggled and pulled himself up so he was lying atop Mycroft. ‘You’re an idiot.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing,’ Greg said, pressing their lips together.

‘It’s probably unhealthy,’ Mycroft said, peppering kisses along Greg’s jaw, ‘how much we love each other.’

‘Mm, but oh so good; like chocolate.’

‘Are you comparing our relationship to chocolate?’

‘Yummy chocolate.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘ _You_ are an idiot.’

‘And?’

‘And you’re an idiot.’ Greg slapped him on the shoulder. ‘What did I say?’

‘You called me an idiot,’ Greg said.

‘You said it first.’

‘No, I called _you_ an idiot, I didn’t call myself an idiot,’ Greg said.

‘Now you keep saying idiot.’

‘IDIOT!’ Greg shouted. Mycroft rolled them so now he was lying atop Greg. He smiled and kissed him softly. ‘Idiot,’ Greg murmured.

Mycroft chuckled.

They exchanged gentle kisses, tongues curling around each other and teeth nipping each other’s lips. Mycroft felt Greg stir beneath him and pulled back.

‘Again?’

‘Well...’ Greg said slowly, ‘... I was hoping you’d fuck me.’

Mycroft grinned, kissing him again. ‘Do you think this will work?’

‘What, you on top of me?’ Greg asked. ‘I think it works very well.’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘I’m serious, Greg.’

‘Do I think what will work?’ Greg asked.

‘This... us,’ Mycroft said. ‘Do you think it will work?’

Greg sighed. ‘I don’t know, Mycroft. I know I care about you and don’t ever want to leave you again. Anything longer than one hour apart is completely unacceptable.’ Mycroft smiled. ‘Will it work? I dunno. We might drive each other crazy and kill ourselves.’

‘Please don’t.’

Greg smiled. ‘Mycroft, all we can do is try. We’ll probably fight and do stupid things but at the end of the day... I love you, Myc.’

Mycroft grinned and asked, ‘You do?’

‘I do, with all my heart.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I love you too, Greg.’

‘Good.’

‘What did I say?’ Mycroft asked.

‘You said to repeat the word, ‘good,’ over and over and over and– _mmf_.’ Greg grunted the last word as Mycroft crushed their lips together. They grew more and more heated until Mycroft was rutting against Greg beneath the sheets.

‘I love you,’ Mycroft whispered, threading their fingers together.

Greg squeezed his hand. ‘I love you too.’

 

\--

 

_Greg dragged Myc into his flat and pushed the taller man heavily against the door. Myc moaned into his mouth, tongue licking at his teeth, his lips, his jaw._

_‘Fuck,’ Greg groaned, shoving a hand down Myc’s trousers. He whimpered into Greg’s mouth, shivering as Greg palmed his throbbing cock._

_‘Fuck me,’ Myc demanded._

_Greg pulled out his hand and hauled Myc to his bedroom. It was a familiar routine and Greg wasted no time in ripping apart Myc’s three-piece suit, a few buttons flying before Greg started on the tie._

_‘Greg, fucking hell.’_

_‘Shut it,’ Greg said, crushing their lips together again._

_Myc chuckled and pulled Greg’s clothes off, pushing his older lover onto the bed. He dropped to suck on Greg’s cock, hollowing his cheeks and dragging his teeth along the officer’s hot shaft._

_Greg bucked into Myc’s mouth, the tip of his cock sliding down the back of Myc’s throat._

_Myc pulled back after slathering a great deal of saliva over Greg’s cock. He straddled the older man’s hips and immediately pushed down, groaning as he was completely filled._

_Greg bucked up and Myc dropped his hands onto Greg’s chest, moaning and cussing as Greg fucked him. Neither were going to last long, not after two weeks apart. Myc felt heat and lust encase his drug-addled brain._

_‘God, harder, please!’ Myc begged._

_Greg rolled the official onto his back and pounded away quickly, moaning as he watched Myc grip and stroke his cock._

_‘Fuck... gonna... come!’_

_Greg leaked into Myc, moaning as he continued to thrust. Myc shouted loudly before he too was coming, spurting all over his hand and stomach. His fingers dripped with liquid as his muscles clenched around Greg, making the police officer’s orgasm last longer and longer._

_Greg blinked through the haze to pull out, Myc sighing as he sat._

_‘What?’ Greg asked._

_‘Always good,’ Myc said._

_Greg smiled and gave him a quick kiss before pulling back the covers. Myc raised an eyebrow and Greg said, ‘The sheets are already ruined.’_

_Myc realised Greg’s seed was leaking down his thighs and smiled as he crawled under the covers, giving Greg a nice view of his arse._

_He sighed and gave Myc a slap, the younger man yelping before dropping onto the bed._

_‘You’re an animal.’_

_‘An animal who just fucked you silly.’_

_‘Mm,’ Myc murmured, drawing the covers up and pulling Greg close._

_They laid in companionable silence. Myc threading his hands through Greg’s hair and the officer nodding off on his chest._

_Suddenly Myc yawned and said, ‘You’re like a drug.’_

_‘Am I?’ Greg asked, nuzzling into Myc’s neck. ‘What am I called? Greg-caine? Greg-stacy? Oh, Geg-juana!’_

_‘You’re an idiot.’_

_‘Idiot-juana?’_

_Myc chuckled and kissed him quickly. ‘Shut up and let me talk.’_

_‘Sorry, sorry. Ladies and gentlemen, Myc has the floor.’_

_Myc slapped him before settling against the pillows. ‘You, my dear Gregory, are like a drug; addictive and fascinating with the ability to make me feel high.’_

_‘Mm, is that a good thing?’_

_‘Most definitely.’_

_‘Good, ’cause I’m addicted to you, Myc. I’m addicted to your lips,’ he murmured, pressing his own against the soft and swollen lips his partner was sporting. ‘I’m addicted to your jaw,’ another quick kiss with a bit of tongue, the officer feeling light stubble pushing through the pale skin. ‘Your neck.’ He sucked back on the sensitive spot to the right of Myc’s Adam’s apple, the younger man giggling and trying to push him away._

_‘I’m addicted to your chest,’ he said and trailed his tongue through the soft hair, ‘and your nipples.’ He sucked one between his lips, Myc moaning and fisting his hand in Greg’s spiky brown hair._

_‘Your cock,’ Greg murmured and bit down on Myc’s nipple as one hand came up to palm the hot and hardening fresh. ‘I’m addicted to the way you get so hot and heavy over me.’_

_‘Keep going,’ Myc mumbled._

_Greg chuckled. ‘I’m addicted to your arms and fingers and that little thing you do with your tongue.’_

_‘What thing?’ Myc asked._

_‘You know, when it’s in my arse and you wiggle it around.’_

_‘Greg,’ Myc groaned._

_‘You’re always so uptight.’_

_‘Am not,’ Myc pouted._

_Greg chuckled and his hand grazed along Myc’s thigh. ‘I love your pale skin and freckles; your feet and the way you twist your hips when you make breakfast. You’ve mastered ordering drinks and getting a table.’_

_Myc smiled. ‘I_ am _rather good, aren’t I?’_

 _‘And most importantly, Myc,’ Greg said and drew himself up to kiss Myc again, ‘I’m addicted to_ you _. Just you, every part of you, even the uptight part.’_

_‘Don’t make me smack you,’ Myc said but he was smiling._

_‘Maybe that’s my intention.’_

_‘Is it now?’_

_‘Mm.’_

_Myc smiled and shifted across the bed to grab his chunky mobile. Greg got a great view of the official’s arse and moaned._

_‘And I’m so addicted to your perfect arse it’s not funny.’_

_Myc smiled and wiggled a bit as he got back onto the bed, Greg drooling._

_‘I sound dangerously unhealthy,’ Myc said, ‘if I were a drug I’d definitely kill you.’_

_‘Oh, but it would be a spectacular death,’ Greg said and pulled him close. They lay against each other, kissing softly and trailing hands down hot body parts._

_‘Greg?’_

_‘Mm?’ the police officer murmured._

_‘I love you.’_

_Greg pulled back to look at the younger man. ‘Yeah?’_

_‘Yeah,’ Myc nodded._

_‘Good.’_

_‘Good?’_

_‘Yup,’ Greg said._

_‘Why?’_

_‘’Cause I love you too.’_

_Myc grinned. ‘Really?’_

_‘Absolutely.’_

_Myc sighed in content and dropped to rest against Greg’s chest. ‘Good.’_

_Neither knew that in three weeks Myc would be OD-ing on the living room floor, that Greg would cry himself to sleep and break the best thing in his life. Neither knew that twenty-three long years of bitterness and anger would bubble just beneath the surface until, finally, they found each other again._

_Neither man could know that soon their worlds would be ripped apart. In the long run it wouldn’t matter._

_They had each other right then and there, arms warm around each other._

_And, in twenty years, they’d have each other again._

 

{THE END}

 

 


End file.
